


We're Not Like Them

by Remus_la_swearwolf



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Character Study, First War with Voldemort, Godric's Hollow, Hyde Park, James Potter & Lily Evans Potter Live, London in the Eighties, M/M, Marlene and Remus's friendship, Muggle London, Order of the Phoenix - Freeform, Post-Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:13:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 21,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25223698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Remus_la_swearwolf/pseuds/Remus_la_swearwolf
Summary: Sirius leaves the flat for hours on end and doesn't tell Remus where he's been. Remus skulks silently in the shadows, forgotten by everyone he once called a friend, and secrets are being kept between the four of them.Remus doesn't even know if they will last the war, and Sirius decides that he wants a child. Remus thinks that they're twenty-one, fighting for their lives, and not like James and Lily.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 5
Kudos: 41
Collections: RS Fix It Fest 2020





	1. Chapter 1

It all began that morning, when Sirius slid the newspaper over the table.

Remus watches his face over his mug of tea, seeing Sirius's brow furrow in what could be anything from concentration to vexation as he stares at the article, then unfold and relax as a new, stranger emotion takes hold of his visage.

He pushes the Daily Prophet over towards Remus, and taps a small article in the corner. 'Hey, Moony. Take a look at this, would you?' he asks casually. He leans back in his chair and folds his fingers beneath his chin, resting his elbows on the rickety table. 'Seems interesting enough, don't you think?'

'Give me a chance to read a sentence, at least,' laughs Remus, pulling the paper towards him and wondering what kind of Quidditch event or cheesy new couples outing Sirius has spotted this time, although his open-eyed stare is perhaps a little too intense, and, as Remus would never admit aloud, unnerving. His eyes flicker up from the paper to Sirius's eyes, and back.

It's a bright morning, and the sunlight streams in through the somewhat grimy window at exactly the right angle to light up the small kitchen and cast a warm glow over Remus, soothing his tense muscles from the stress of the oncoming full moon. The two of them are contented and at peace for the first time in a while, even accounting for the considerable strain the war and being stuck indoors all day has placed on them, except for when Dumbledore chooses either of them to go on a mission deemed necessary by himself, and then the other is left waiting at the window for either the familiar seven-times knock on the door and the passcode, or the dark crow bearing a letter of condolences and a commendation of the honour of the fallen, which really isn't wanted, and isn't a decent compensation for the life of someone you loved.

But that's how it is, and today has been the first day in weeks that Remus has been able to forget it, or at least allow it to settle somewhere other than the forefront of his mind, where it lingers and whispers and seeps into his every thought and word, and sets him on edge, until the point where he's stretched enough to snap and sting everyone cursed enough to be around him. He doesn't want this to develop into another argument between he and Sirius, because just like himself, tensions between the two of them have been as stretched as far as they possibly can before something snaps and breaks, and that is exactly what Remus cannot allow to happen.

Because that would be terrible, and that would be the end of it all.

Looking at the article, he can't believe how thoughtless and naive Sirius must be to suggest such a thing, and how he imagines it will turn out, given the current climate, to state something other than the obvious. Of all the mad-cap ideas he's ever had, this is enough to contend with even the worst.

Remus can feel the colour draining from his cheeks as his eyes scour each line of the short paragraph at the very back of the newspaper, sandwiched in between an advertisement for some kind of magically enhanced kitchen appliance and a warning against emergent cults which claimed to offer protection against Death Eaters and the like. A reprint of last week's page five.

He takes a deep breath and sets the newspaper down, wondering how to go about this without utterly shattering the other man's heart. 'Sirius --' 

'I know, I know,' Sirius says hurriedly. 'We've talked about this before, and it's wild and crazy, probably not the right time and maybe it's a bit stupid, but --'

'A _bit_ stupid?' Remus repeats slowly, unable to take any more of this lunacy for another second. His jaw hangs slack as he blinks and tries to comprehend how Sirius could possibly be justifying this to himself in his head. When they'd talked about having a kid together, in the far-off foreseeable future, they hadn't really been serious, and Remus certainly hadn't thought that it would happen here and now. He tries to keep his tone as low and neutral as he can. 'I hate to ask this, but do you hear yourself? Have you even taken a moment to think this through? What it would mean for all of us?'

Sirius's eyes narrow for a split second, and he scans Remus's face so quickly that if Remus didn't know him so well, he may well not have realised. For some reason, it infuriates Remus more than any words from Sirius ever could. Evidently, Sirius also knows him too well, hearing the message beneath the carefully controlled tone. A little _too_ well controlled, Sirius thinks.

'I _have_ thought about it, Moony,' he says stubbornly. A muscle in his jaw twitches unvoluntarily, and the hand previously lying flat on the table is folded into a loose fist. Remus eyes it warily. 'Maybe I don't always think things through --' At this, Remus raises his eyebrows as he takes another sip of tea, '-- don't look at me like that -- but honestly, I have thought this through, long and hard, for months. I know there's a war going on, I do, better than anyone, and people are dying everyday, but we can't let it put a hold on our lives like this! If Lily and James can do it, then so can we!'

Remus swallows. His hands are shaking now, something he's dealt with all his life due to muscle spasms and stress, so that the cooling liquid in the mug jumps up and down and nearly washes over the edges. He carefully sets it down, watching it vibrate, and feeling desperately out of control over anything ranging from his body to his own life. Everything seems to be done to him, rather than him actually doing anything himself. Sirius's eyes flicker down to the movement of his hands and back up to his face almost before he notices.

'But we aren't Lily and James,' he says hollowly, the tremor in his body seeping into the end of his sentences. 'We aren't them, and we aren't like them, and we never will be. You're right --' he tells Sirius, anger beginning to colour his words now; Sirius isn't hearing anything he's saying or refuses to, '--we _are_ in a war, and people are dying. We don't even know if we're going to make it out of this alive. Lily and James didn't ask for any of this, and look where it's got them now. You're insane if you think I'd bring a child into this war.'

Realisation dawns on Sirius's face, as the reality of Remus's stance on the matter hits him for the first time. '"It"?' he repeats, leaning across the table, his pale face now a livid shade of puce, and his eyes burning with cold fury. '"It"? Is that what you think Harry is? You think they didn't want him, and that it's his fault bloody fucking Voldemort's set a target on their heads?'

'I don't think any of that at all,' mumbles Remus, but Sirius is up now, and pacing the cramped kitchen furiously. There's no stopping him when he's on a roll. Remus mops up the spilt tea, from when Sirius leapt up and pushed the table into Remus's ribs without noticing. It's just made Remus as empty of air as he feels.

'Well, fuck you if you think that, and fuck anyone who thinks that!' Sirius shouts, pointing an accusatory finger at Remus. 'They love Harry, and so do you, but from the way you've been acting lately, it's been bloody hard to tell!

'I didn't say that,' reiterates Remus quietly, but Sirius doesn't seem to hear.

'I want a child with you Remus, I want a life with you, and I'm not going to let this stupid bloody fucking thing get in the way of that!' He stops short in his pacing all of a sudden, and faces the back of Remus's unturned head. 'But if _you_ don't want that, that's another story.'

'You're jumping to conclusions, Sirius.' Remus's voice is harsher. He's tired of being spoken over, and he's tired of this conversation. He's already exhausted, and if he's honest, Sirius is draining him entirely. 'I do want a life with you, and you're making that extraordinarily hard at the moment. But a child isn't the solution to all of our problems.'

'How am I "making this hard"?' Sirius demands, his voice dangerous. Remus wonders if there was even ever a point to trying to argue with him. 'All I ever do is try to do exactly what you claim you want, make a life for us, but I seem to be the only one actually contributing anything towards that "common goal",' he sneers. 'I've loved you longer than Lily could stand to be in the same room as James, and look at where they are now, and then look at us.'

Pressure is building behind Remus's ears; he can feel them reddening, and his temper is steadily rising. He's put up with this sort of thing for eleven years and twenty-one days, and he isn't going to stand for it a second longer.

'They weren't ready to have a child, and we aren't either,' he snaps. 'This craze isn't "contributing" towards anything. And it's still in the testing stages. There's no telling how it will turn out.' 

He hunches over his mug of cold tea, and takes another obstinate, long-drawn sip. He knows what losing his cool facade in front of Sirius will cost him, so he stares blankly ahead and chants a mantra of "Stay calm, don't let him see," over and over in his head until it echoes by itself and he feels like he's going mad.

'You're making excuses,' Sirius states coldly, but his face is twitching with fury. 'You don't want to do this, and you're making excuses. Maybe you're not ready for a child, but I am.'

'Sirius, we're twenty-one!' Remus explodes at last. He stands up abruptly, not caring that his tea-mug has fallen off the table, and that there's a mess of ceramic shards on the floor, and brown liquid trickling in between the tiles. Sirius flinches at the noise. 'Neither of us is ready, and nobody is, not when they're twenty one, and in a war. Lily and James weren't ready, and they wouldn't be, even if they hadn't been just twenty, or if they'd been twenty-one, or twenty-two, or twenty-three, or twenty-four, or even twenty-five! Because, we're kids, Sirius! We're still kids, can't you see? We're just kids fighting a war we never chose to fight, and even if this works or if it doesn't, I absolutely refuse to bring a child into a world that's like this, a fucked up world that no child should be born into, especially not the child of you and I!'

As Remus finishes, he realises he's been yelling, and he takes several deep breaths, hoping to cool his flaming face, and calm his racing heart and burning lungs. 'I'm sorry,' he says, knowing he's gone too far.

Sirius closes his mouth, and his nostrils flare with emotion. 'Okay. Alright. I get it now.' He lifts a roughened hand to his cheek and coarsely swipes at his eyes with his knuckles. Remus's own eyes burn. Sirius stuffs his hands into the pockets of his battered leather jacket to hide the trembling. He shrinks back into it, hoping to feel safe inside of it, his first rebellion, one of the few things he took with him the night he escaped that house and ran to James and found Remus there, waiting for him, and Remus forgave him for all the fucked up things he'd done and made it all okay again with his hands and his words and his lips. 

Maybe it will make him feel safe again. 

'It makes sense, you know. Not wanting to have a kid. With me. I'm a Black after all, aren't I?' He makes a sound between a laugh and a hysterical sob. 'It's in my blood, and dee-nay.'

Remus doesn't try to correct him, he only makes a half-gasping sound as he shakes his head frantically, unable to force the words out of his throat. His chest is heaving, and he can't breathe, let alone speak. The tea has soaked its way through his patched but thick socks.

'I'm just another ruddy Black to you and even after everything, that's all you see,' he says bitterly. 'I'm good enough to warm your bed, and I'm good enough to fuck you, and if you're lonely enough then maybe I'm good enough to love you. But you could never have a child with me.' He's smiling now, a smile of sudden clarity. 'And who could blame you? Look at how I turned out. All that inbreeding, cousins and even _siblings_ fucking each other for generations upon generations -- keeping the bloodline _pure_.' He laughs. 'No wonder I turned out the way I did. Psychotic, poisoned and incestuous -- that's the Black family for you. Maybe you're right. I wouldn't wish this on any child.'

He pushes past Remus, out of the kitchen, and begins to stuff a shopping bag with fresh clothes strewn on the sofa in the tiny living room. He probably doesn't need to pack, seeing as he has more than enough of his things at James's place, but he does it anyway.

Remus follows him wordlessly, not noticing the sharp sting in his foot as he steps on a large shard of his mug. 

Sirius finally looks at him, and his grey-eyed gaze isn't angry or accusing anymore. He just looks resigned and disappointed. 'I'm not mad at you, just so you know,' he says simply. 

Remus can feel his heart beating acutely loud in his chest, and he can feel himself growing more and more panicky as each second goes by. 'Sirius, I didn't -- I don't --' he trails off helplessly, not knowing what he could say that would make things any better, or stop Sirius from leaving. 'Wait. Stay,' he begs, feeling pitiful and pathetic. 

Sirius knows how much he needs him, in the end, no matter how much they might pretend otherwise.

'I'm off to James and Lily's,' Sirius tells him stiffly, and he tosses the bag over his shoulder, and walks out the apartment door. Just like that.

Remus hears the door slam shut. His sock is stained red with blood, and there's a complete mess on the tiles, and as is usual with all the messes the two of them make, he's left behind to clear it up. 

He sinks to the floor, a ringing in his ears, and a hollow numbness echoing in his chest. They're slowly falling apart, and he wonders how it all happened.


	2. Chapter 2

After what feels like an age, Remus lifts his head from his knees, and blinks blearily.

The shadows have become ever so slightly longer, and the sun has still found a way to bend its rays to beam its spotlight on Remus. He doesn't want it now. He shifts away from it in search of a dark corner to hide away, cringing, but the early afternoon light has invaded every corner of the cramped living room. 

Most likely the tea Remus had for breakfast will be as cold as the tiles it runs between.

He'll have to get up if he wants to escape, but his bones have calcified, and he's convinced there's dust in his hair.

The clock on the wall opposite refuses to come into focus for a good minute or two. Remus is shocked when he learns just how long he's been sitting here for. 

He closes his eyes again for another second, gathering his thoughts and steeling himself for the uninviting prospect of having to get up. With a grunt, and a painful cracking of stiff joints, he's up, but regrets it instantly as his vision tunnels, and green clouds swim across his shrinking field of sight. He leans against the wall, waiting for the numbing pain in his head to stop, and for the living room to stop spinning like a mad carousel in hell.

'Fuck's sake.' Remus presses his other hand to his temple and rubs it, using the wall to feel his way back to the kitchen, where there's still a mess on the table and tiles. He's truly in pitiful shape.

By the time he reaches the door, his sight is back to normal, but the cold pounding in his head won't desist. He's grateful, though; if the green clouds had persisted in blocking his sight, he'd probably have inch-long shards of tea-mug embedded in his foot. A painful tingle in his left heel reminds him of his earlier run-in with the breakage, and he notices traces of dried blood on the floor from earlier. 

He shuffles cautiously over to the kitchen sink, and wrings out the soaked flannel Sirius had neglected to clean after using last. 'What a bloody mess,' he mutters, shaking his head and pulling off his stained socks, before kneeling beside the spillage and starting to mop it up with slow, heavy strokes. He isn't just talking about the tea and bits of broken glass.

Half an hour later, the kitchen is shining more than it ever has in its miserable career, and looks nothing like the kitchen of a shithole apartment belonging to two chaotic young men fighting in a secret war, years barely stretched to twenty-one.

He knows Sirius could have afforded better, but Sirius can tell that he never would have moved in with him otherwise. At least living in an ancient hovel miles away from anywhere of significance allows Remus to swallow his pride slightly, even if he knows Sirius is lying about the real number on the check. It wouldn't be the first time either of them had lied to the other.

Remus searches for something to do, something other than torturing himself over Sirius and their conversation that morning, but the flat is tiny, and even though it's them, there isn't much to clean. By the time he's done, he checks the clock, with its loud, jerking ticks, and the slight creaking of the minute hand as it shudders into the next sixty seconds, and there's still far too much time for over-thinking in loops and circles until he trips himself up, ankle deep in obsession and haunting himself with the look on Sirius's face after Remus had told him he didn't want to have a child with him.

He can't take it anymore, not for a single second longer, so he shrugs on the tatted coat he's had since he was fifteen that's been patched up about a million times, mismatched buttons and different coloured threads standing out starkly from the original faded brown colour. He pulls it on roughly, grabbing the keys Sirius hadn't bothered to take with him. The chain is ridiculously heavy, laden with stupid trinkets and some kind of pipe cleaner animal Harry had made for Sirius. There's also a small, clear plastic locket with Remus's laughing face inside, roughly cut out of a moving picture from their Hogwarts days, which Remus hadn't been aware of Sirius taking. It's a clear violation of the Statute of Secrecy. 

Remus doesn't see the picture of him as he stuffs the keys into his pocket and tears out of the flat door, banging the door shut behind him. It quakes in its frame, and it might be locked or it might not be, but Remus does't bother checking. What's there left to steal anyway that Sirius hasn't taken with him or isn't at James's house already?

He can see the curious eye of the old man next door peering out at him through the peep-hole of his apartment door. The glass is long gone, and Remus almost laughs at the thought of the old man's embarrassment if he ever discovered that fact, and that both Remus and Sirius had long-been aware of his nosing ways. The two of them had had a good few chuckles over it before.

Remus isn't laughing this time, as he back-tracks up the two steps he's taken down the rickety stairs to scowl directly into the old man's bloodshot eye and fix him with his best wolf-stare for a good ten seconds. 

The aged eye blinks a couple times, and Remus huffs in satisfaction as he backs away from the peep-hole. He lifts his chin triumphantly and storms down the rest of the staircases, as many as there are, without a care for what his neighbours might think. They aren't well-liked, exactly, with Remus's unfriendly ways, and Sirius's habit of bringing random groups of strangers back to the apartment for "quiet get-togethers" which always evolve into rowdy parties with upwards of one hundred people sometimes. 

Of course they can't all fit inside the flat (although Remus is surprised Sirius fits as many as he does), so they end up spilling out onto the stairs and disturbing all the inhabitants of the building, although Remus doubts that many of them are actually using the dark hours of the night to sleep. One of the reasons Sirius had chosen this flat was for the building's "culture", and Remus had only really begun to understand what was meant by culture after he'd lived there for a good few months. The neighbours also don't appreciate Sirius's drunken attempts to befriend the lot of them. He's been shouted off a number of doorsteps at unearthly hours, and Remus is certain that people have their suspicions about the two of them, as unreserved as Sirius is with his affection in front of strangers. He's never understood Remus's aversion to letting the world know about the two of them, although "it's 1981, and fuck them and what they think of us."

Remus knows it just doesn't work that way.

The domestic life just isn't for them, and especially not himself. He'd tell Sirius to move on and leave for someone who could give him what he wants if he knew Sirius would actually move on and do just that. But he's been his friend long enough to know that Sirius Black wouldn't ever, because once Sirius Black chooses to love you, it's impossible to shake him off. God knows Remus has tried enough times.

As he leaves the block of flats, he realises that he's been dallying and waiting for Sirius to come back, and that's why he's left leaving so late, finding excuses to stay. Sirius hadn't taken his keys, and in the back of Remus's mind he wonders why, if it's because Sirius isn't planning on coming back for a while, or because he expected Remus to be waiting anxiously for him to return, like they were in some sickening and twisted pseudo-domestic set-up?

A wave of fury washes over him at the sheer injustice of it all, what Sirius wants from him without considering what any of it all means, and without giving anything of the sort back. And then the fool has the audacity to blame Remus for not understanding, when in reality, that's all Remus has ever done in all eleven years of knowing Sirius. Eleven years of watching him; trying to understand him, and his complexities, and untangle where his wildnesses and his weaknesses intertwine and become one. 

It's quite a small demand on his part, Remus thinks, asking Sirius to just stop and think and understand him just this once. Maybe Sirius was there to stop the moon from tearing Remus apart and Remus loves him desperately for that, but Remus was there to stick Sirius back together again when his own wolves tore him apart, and he can't help but think that he got the short end of the stick in that trade-off.

Leaving the house with the intention of charging off in any direction like a loose canon had been what he was doing up until that point, so he's surprised to find his feet have led him to the local tube station, but he goes with it. He leaps over the barriers, ignoring the indignant exclamation of the rather large and unfit station-guard. Living in a neighbourhood like this one, Remus is surprised and rather impressed with the guard's valiance and continued attempts to police who paid to use the trains and who didn't. 

The Muggles passing him don't even spare him a second glance as he clatters clumsily down the weathered grey steps to the closest platform, clutching the grimy railing as he nearly trips in his haste to catch the train currently waiting at the platform. The doors are closing as he darts inside the carriage, barging into a large man on the inside, and pushing a snogging couple out of his way on the platform.

The doors close in their faces, but apart from a half-hearted protest from the young man, neither of them seem to care that they've missed their train that much. It's understandable, considering that the next train is arriving in under a minute, but if Remus has to wait still anywhere, for even a moment, the swirling anxiety will over take him. He's got to keep moving.

The train is surprisingly crowded for the early afternoon of an autumn weekday, but Remus tries to make his way through the carriage anyway. His breathing is still laboured from his rush to catch the train, and his coat is caught in the train doors, ensuing in a quick struggle and the eyes of several curious strangers on him, but eventually he emerges as the victor after a good deal of swearing, and the tutting of several disapproving commuters accompanied by children. 

He ignores them and stalks down the carriage with burning ears, stepping on several toes, his ego barely intact. There isn't enough room to pace anxiously as he'd like, but he makes the most of what he's given, tapping his feet to an unknown beat, and constantly moving his hands from his pockets to the stanchion keeping him upright every time the train jolts to a halt or jerkily approaches the next stop.

He's learnt from experience that Londoners don't usually take kindly to being fallen on, especially not on trains for some reason.

The unstable stopping and starting reminds him of the Knight Bus somewhat, and how they'd once caught it several years before. James had made them all swear a solemn oath to keep a safe hundred miles away from the damned thing after ejecting the contents of his guts over the pavement in Picadilly Circus, much to the displeasure of the hundreds of people present.

His tapping and constant shifting must make him look like some escaped freak or addict, if his shabby attire and the state of him didn't make him stand out already. The child opposite won't stop staring at him with wide, unabashed eyes, and Remus finds himself strangely unable to move his eyes from the child's unrelenting stare. His eyes flicker away and to the side, and then to the maps overhead, as is customary to users of the London Underground upon making eye contact with a stranger, but he finds his gaze is drawn back time and time again.

Then the child's father notices him, a beefy man of a large build, and the child is hauled into his lap as he stares fiercely at Remus, challenging him, perhaps.

Remus isn't threatened; he's more than a match for this man, however large, and besides, he's got his wand in his pocket, but he swallows, and hops off the train at the next station.

The man's gaze doesn't leave Remus until he's off the train, and the train has started moving until it's a blur and the man is a smudge of colour, and the train has clattered off into the dark tunnels of the London Underground. 

His uncut hair is swept back by the force of it, and his clothes are blasted back by the wind. He glances up at the station sign. Hyde Park Corner. A destination as worthy as any. 

He remembers coming to Hyde Park with them all, Sirius, Peter, James, Lily and Harry, and they'd spent a pleasant afternoon there. Harry had been far too young to remember or really understand what was really going on, but he'd still enjoyed it all the same.

This station is more packed and there are likely to be more cameras, as it's central, but he rushes up the escalators anyway and leaps over the barriers again, to the increased disgruntlement of the station-guard here. Remus doesn't know if it's easier to jump barriers here, where it's posh and they don't expect it, or if it's easier at home where they're used to it and don't bother trying to stop barrier-jumpers anymore.

The guard continues to yell as he runs across the street, narrowly avoiding being hit by a car, and dashes into the park. 

He doesn't know what he's doing there, and this part is unfamiliar to him, but he keeps walking.


	3. Chapter 3

He's picked an odd day for a walk in the park.

It's that time of year, when it's not quite chilly yet, but it isn't warm enough to leave the house without a scarf, at least. You can feel the oncoming bitterness on the air and in your bones, but you'd still feel stuffy in a thick coat. Remus's worn jacket isn't a match for the weather, but he's always run warm, and he's used to it from winter nights in the shack with his clothes torn to shreds and his muscles too aching and torn to move.

For some reason, families seem to have chosen today to chase the last rays of the fleeing summer sun. He keeps walking past benches and fountains and lamp posts, all of them surrounded by gaggles of children and their adoring parents. They seem to follow Remus wherever he goes.

A violent gust of wind blasts through the park, and several browned leaves are shaken from their weakened hold on their trees. They spiral to the floor slowly at first, and then they are torn side to side on the wind, and little bits of leaf litter and shrivelled petals are blown into his eyes. He hisses in pain and annoyance, and rubs his eye roughly, not caring about the damage to the delicate tissue below.

No doubt his eyes are more bloodshot than those of any hooligan living in the block of flats where he lives.

A leaf swirling to the floor is pulled sharply off its course, and Remus watches as it sinks slowly into a puddle at his feet, soaking up water until it blackens and falls to the very bottom of that dark pool. A light drizzle has begun to fall, and the sky is beseiged by shadows of grey.

Parents call their children to them, worried at the thought of their offspring catching cold, chasing down the more rebellious of them, who laugh and spin in the shower with heads of hair steadily saturated by the rain.

The puddle by his feet is disturbed by the rain, ripples spreading across the surface, distorting the fallen leaf so it and the black tar beneath it seem to merge together and split apart again in a way that is mesmerising and could almost be described as beautiful, but simplistic.

Remus doesn't spare it another thought, stomping through it with destructive boots that aren't waterproof, so that everything before him is ruined, and his socks are, too. Again.

He keeps on going, despite the displeasing squelch of his toes in his boots.

His shoulders are hunched over, and his ratty collar is popped in a way Sirius would be envious of, but the rain still trickles into his hair, and slides down his face and off his nose in way that itches and makes him want to tear his own skin off.

Nobody should be able to make out the outlines of his face, much less identify him, so he nearly jumps out of his skin, when a voice nearby calls out: 'Remus!'

He feels as if he should know the voice from somewhere; it's familiar somehow, but hazy around the edges. He stops short, narrowing his eyes through the rain and scanning his surroundings for anyone he might know. The park is largely deserted, and those still remaining are huddled into bedraggled clumps beneath trees or wooden rain shelters. There's no evidence of someone who might have called his name, but through his coat he clutches the outline of his wand in his beltloop, ready to whip it out and defend himself, should the occasion call for it.

Either someone's making a fine joke of him and he's in danger, or he's hearing things. He's done it. He's finally reached the day where he calls into doubt the evidence of his own eyes and ears, because now it's easier to believe he's driven himself mad than the alternative. He always knew this day was coming, whether it's the day he goes loony or dies in a duel with Death Eaters.

If he really thinks about it, both outcomes are as equally likely as the other. He wouldn't be the first they'd lost to madness, the sounds of the war like nails on a board in his mind, playing on laborious repeat, over and over. And then it could also be Voldemort's minions, infuriated by the very existence of a half-blooded half-breed, walking amongst wizards and humans as if he were one of them. He knows he doesn't fully belong to either.

Or perhaps they've come to torture him into disclosing James and Lily's location, or other Order secrets. They needn't bother, thinks Remus grimly. James and Lily hadn't considered trusting him with the ability to reveal their location. And why would they?

He'd sooner die, anyway.

'Remus!'

There it is again, louder now, and unmistakeably known to him. The hair on the back of his neck doesn't prickle as it might usually do -- he doesn't think he's in any immediate danger.

He looks up, and takes in his surroundings again. The rain has abated slightly, and he can see properly without blinking away oceans of raindrops clinging to his eyelashes. He's in some sort of small garden within the park. There are four benches in a circle in the very middle of the blossom-filled garden, all of them empty. Thick bushes dotted in pale pink roses surround a rather odd fountain at the centre of the circle. A naked child or cherub is astride some sort of creature, a cross between a serpent and a sea horse.

In all his years in the Wizarding world, Remus has never seen anything quite like it. He chuckles to himself over the odd taste the Victorians or the Romans or the Anglo-Saxons (whichever idiots had been bored enough to erect such a statue) or even the bloody Greeks had in art, and why anyone of sound mind would want to imitate such a thing and stick it in this otherwise picturesque corner.

He shuffles a little closer to the fountain to get a good look, and peers into the bowl, through which no water is running. He recoils in horror, his eyes flaring as he stares deep into the stagnant red water rippling in the strong breeze. He blinks another couple of times, and takes another cautious look, hoping it's not some type of Dark enchantment left there, or what he thinks it might be.

'Fuck,' he says, taking a heaving breath to replace the one he'd abstained from taking for so long. It's a sigh of relief; the liquid is obviously far too thin and clear to be blood, although that doesn't rule out the possibilities that it's either a Death Eater trap, or that somebody's bled at least a little bit.

'Remus!' comes the voice again, and this time it's impatient.

Remus wheels around wildly, chills pouring down his spine. He waves his wand wildly in the direction he believes the noise to be coming from, and several sparks and jets of light blast unwarranted from the tip. 'For Merlin's sake, stop playing games and show yourself!' he growls.

'Over here,' says the voice again, amused this time. Remus thinks he recognises it, and shoves his wand into his robes with a sinking heart. His pocket is far too small, and the wand pokes a hole in it, but that's okay. He'll fix it later.

'Professor Dumbledore,' he says, turning around slowly. He doesn't think his day could possibly get any worse than it already has.

'Remus,' Dumbledore returns, smiling pleasantly. He's sitting there, on the bench Remus had been watching no less than sixty seconds ago, before making a fool of himself and scaring himself shitless by the fountain. 'I hope you are well.'

Remus nods shortly. 'I'm doing -- I'm doing all right, Professor. And I'm sorry about -- well, the swearing and yelling and hexing,' he says, cringing with embarrassment.

Dumbledore regards him with a humourous twinkle in his eye, and Remus finds a cold sense of fury overwhelming him. Why is he the one apologising to the old man, when he'd been the one following and playing mind games with him?

'No harm done, Mr Lupin,' he answers, and Remus is cast back to his school days.

He tries to keep his tone as even as possible. 'If I might ask, Sir, how long have you been following me for?'

'My apologies, Remus. Quite a while, I have to admit. I thought it would be more prudent to wait until we were alone to reveal myself.'

Remus eyes him warily. 'Was there any particular reason you wanted to see me, Sir?'

Dumbledore isn't his teacher anymore, but the word seems to come out instinctively.

'Take a seat, Remus.'

Remus does so reluctantly, and waits for the old man to speak. He certainly seems to be taking his time over it, eyes on the grey sky. 'You seemed alarmed by the fountain on your way in, I couldn't help but notice.'

I'll bet you could, thinks Remus, but he keeps it to himself.

'The water's an unusual colour,' he says neutrally.

'And naturally, at first, you assumed it was blood?'

Remus shrugs. 'We're in a war.'

'If you had inspected the water, like I had, you would have noticed the colour coming from several deposits of algae on the surface of the water, and also coloured rings left behind by earlier growths.'

'I'll keep that it mind next time I see blood in a fountain.'

A slight smile curls around the corner of Dumbledore's mouth. 'Wise words, Mr Lupin. How are things with your friends, Remus? I confess I've missed the maraudering, to some degree, although I can't tell if the same can be said for poor Professor McGonagall. I've heard her say more than once that Mr Potter and Mr Black have taken a combined total of ten odd years off her lifespan.'

'Sounds like James and Sirius,' says Remus dryly.

Dumbledore looks around. 'I'm surprised you're here by yourself, Remus. As I recall, it was quite the rare occasion when one of you four was spotted without another.'

'Lily and James have been stuck at home for a while. I've heard James is going haywire, trapped inside,' chuckles Remus humourlessly. He can't think of anything less funny. 'And Peter's keeping a low profile.'

'And Mr Black?' inquires Dumbledore, with obvious concern. 'Is everything all right with you two?'

Remus shrugs. 'As all right as it can be, I suppose. He's got a lot on his mind, understandably. He loves James, and he can't stand that Harry's in danger and there isn't much he can do about it. He'd die for him, you know.'

'I'd say Mr Black has done a great deal more for Mr Potter than many friends would. If there's anyone who can keep them all safe, it's him.'

Remus nods stiffly.

Dumbledore sighs heavily, hauling himself to his feet. Remus is once again reminded of just how old he is, although it doesn't seem to show most of the time. 'James is like a brother to Sirius. Harry's like a son to him, you must understand. It's natural that Sirius would spend a great deal of time with them. Perhaps you'll understand one day when you have children of your own. Have many, Remus. This world could certainly do with a great deal more of you in it.'

With that, he walks off into the bushes and is soon swallowed up by shrubs and roses, leaving Remus feeling slightly weirded out, and with many questions.

He wonders if Dumbledore decided to take a stroll in Hyde Park in the middle of the academic term simply for kicks, or if because he's keeping a close eye on Remus. He doesn't know which one is the most odd.

He turns back the way he came, baffled as to how his day has turned out the way it has, and is confronted by Dedalus Diggle and Hestia Jones, of all people. They can't also just be out for the sake of it, on a miserable day like this. Maybe Hyde Park is just that popular with Wizarding folk, although he doesn't remember seeing anyone he knows when he went with everyone else.

'Lupin!' explodes Dedalus. 'You need to get out of here. Now!'

'Idiot!' hisses Hestia. 'You aren't supposed to reveal our identities to every man, woman, and toddler within fifty miles of Marble Arch!'

Remus stares at them, bemused. They're an odd couple, on-and-off, and the rest of the Order have bets on whether or not they'll make it 'til Christmas. He doesn't know if that means as a couple, or just in general.

'What's going on?' he demands.

'There's an ambush,' pants Dedalus. 'We're here, on duty, and you need to leave now, before you get spotted or killed, and ruin the whole operation.'


	4. Chapter 4

'An ambush?'

Remus stares hard at Dedalus, unable to comprehend what he's just been told. 'Yes, there's an ambush, an ambush!' barks Dedalus excitedly, although Remus doesn't know what there is to be excited about. Dedalus grabs Remus's shoulders and shakes him. 'You need to leave now, Lupin!' he says, at a volume far too loud, given how close he is to Remus's face.

Remus leans back and shakes him off indignantly. 'What ambush, and why wasn't I told about it?' he demands. The idiot's barely out of Hogwarts, and Remus doesn't know why he's been allowed to join the Order.

Dedalus leaps forward to speak, jittering with nervous energy as he reaches for Remus's shoulders again. Remus takes a quick step back, looking to Hestia. She looks tired and resigned to Dedalus's childish behaviour. He'll have to double his bet on them with Kingsley. And perhaps shorten the deadline.

'We're on a mission from the Order,' explains Hestia wearily. She gives Dedalus a poisonous look. 'We received a tip-off that there's going to be some sort of Death Eater attack, and we're here to stop them and catch as many as possible. It was supposed to be secret, but Dedalus here, decided to stop off and let as many people as possible know who we are and what we're up to.'

Dedalus scowls, but doesn't argue.

Remus looks over the two of them. Hestia's a skilled witch, but she looks exhausted, and he's honestly not sure if Dedalus could win a duel against a Hogwarts Fifth Year let alone an experienced Death Eater. 'Well, at least you've got Dumbledore with you. Wherever he's gone off to.'

Hestia's brow furrows in confusion. 'Dumbledore? What do you mean?' she turns around to see if Dumbledore is perhaps hiding somewhere behind them. 'We weren't told he'd be here.'

'So the two of you plan on attacking a Death Eater picnic in Hyde Park by yourselves?' asks Remus acidly. 'Are you sure there aren't too many of you?'

Hestia looks embarrassed. 'Well, actually it's not so much an attack as it is a hand-off. Word is, on the grapevine, that You-Know-Who's been looking for some kind of artefact, and we think this could be it. He's been keeping the Death Eaters on the down-low for now, so it's unlikely they'll cause any trouble for the Muggles, but they've been searching for your friends for months now, without any results. I'll wager they're restless enough.'

'There should only be a couple of them, they won't want to attract much attention if we're right about what they're doing,' chimes in Dedalus. 'Our mission is to intercept them before this "artefact" or whatever it is can change hands. If all goes well, there'll be more cells filled in Azkaban, tonight.'

The mention of the prison sends a shiver down Remus's spine. 'Are you certain you won't need any back-up?'

A sheepish look crosses both of their faces. 'Technically, we do have one or two others hanging about, ready to jump in if we look like we need it,' Hestia admits.

'"Technically"?' repeats Remus sardonically. 'What do you mean, technically? Are they there or not? How many people actually know about this mission?'

'Just a couple Order members, really,' says Dedalus. 'Moody, Kingsley, Sirius . . .'

'Sirius?' explodes Remus. 'How does Sirius know about this and I don't?'

Hestia shifts her feet and looks uncomfortable. 'Look, Remus, this really isn't the time . . .'

They both turn to stare at Dedalus, whose pocket watch has started making loud wailing sounds and chiding him. 'You're late!' it warns him, in a grating, squeaking voice. 'Late, late, late!'

'All right, all right!' shouts Dedalus, slapping the face of his watch. 'I've got it!'

'Under. Cover.' Hestia's stare is deadly.

'I'm trying, I'm trying!'

Hestia sighs. 'Look, Remus. I'm sorry, I really am, but this'll have to sort itself out later. We really do have to go now.'

Remus nods shakily.

Hestia seizes Dedalus's wrist and silences his watch, ignoring his loud complaints about her ruining an old family heirloom. She turns to look at Remus regretfully, before leaving the little clearing with Dedalus.

Remus looks after them, stunned. He wonders what else Sirius has been keeping from him. Lately, things just haven't been the same between all of them, and he wonders if Sirius's insane suggestion of earlier had been a desperate attempt to fix what had gone wrong.

He peers into the blood coloured fountain once more (which he now knows is due to algae), and heads in the opposite direction of Dedalus and Hestia, back towards Hyde Park Corner station. Perhaps it's all best if he just forgets this, and heads home to make himself a nice cup of tea like the one he hadn't had that morning. Maybe he'll call up James, or even better Lily, and ask her to tell him what's going on, and provide some rationality to the situtation. She'll sit them down and make them talk it out, until no feelings are kept hidden and no words are left unsaid.

If there's anyone who can fix things between him and Sirius, it's Lily.

He plugs his headphones into his walkman. It's Sirius's, really, but Sirius would much rather blast his music loud and proud on the radio or on his record player. He's a bit of a snob when it comes to his music, as he'd be proud to admit.

The song playing is Love of My Life, and it's one of Remus's favourites, although Queen is really more Sirius's type of thing. The dramatic vocals and wild riffs typical of a Queen song appeal to Sirius, whilst Remus is more partial to the Cars or the Kinks, although Sirius loves those too.

The slow melodies and melancholic tunes draw Remus in, until he's almost entirely lost in a world of self-pity and his own creation. He walks on auto-pilot, and he's so absorbed by the music that he doesn't hear the screaming, and is thrown back by at least four metres by a Dark curse blasted from the wand of a hooded Death Eater. His head cracks painfully on tar.

'Shit!' he yells, pulling the earphones out of his ears and stuffing the wires into his pocket. The walkman is crushed. Sirius is going to be furious.

He fumbles desperately for his wand and pulls it out, scrambling to his feet. His back creaks sickeningly, he isn't meant to be so active this close to the full moon.

A great, big Death Eater, nearly twice his breadth is advancing on him, eyes glittering coldly behind the mask. Remus wonders if it's somebody he knew from school. His head throbs, but he lifts his wand shakily.

The Death Eater blocks the weak spell cast by Remus easily, and Remus can see the sick smile in his eyes. He raises his wand, and Remus braces himself for a blast, his vision doubling from the trauma to his head. 'Tell us what you met with Albus Dumbledore for, and where he went.'

'At least show yourself!' he barks, hoping that even if he dies today, something good could come of it.

The Death Eater scoffs. 'Not a chance.'

Remus squints up into the eyes of the hood. 'Rowle?' he asks, recognising the voice.

If it's Rowle, he doesn't give a response. 'That's enough,' he says simply, and Remus knows that this is it. His eyesight is growing worse by the minute, and his head grows boilingly hot and freezingly cold by turns, but he thinks of James, Peter, Lily, Harry. And Sirius.

'Avada --'

The Death Eater is bowled over by a jet of red light, and is flung to the tar, unconscious.

Remus squints through the darkening tunnel of his sight to identify his saviour.

There she is, standing tall, in her leather jacket, and messy hair in a braid. There's a blackening bruise on her chin.

'Marlene,' he says woozily, before collapsing at her feet.

**

When Remus comes to, he's vaguely aware of his immediate surroundings: he's lying on something soft, and he's warm, so he must be indoors somewhere.

He moans and shifts, but his arms are stone, and his eyelids are even heavier. A cool hand brushes his forehead. 'Lie still,' says a voice near the top of his head. 'You'll be able to move when you're ready.'

Remus gives an unintelligible grunt and settles back down. Wherever he is, he's safe, for now. He tries to remember what exactly happened, but it's all still hazy in his mind. The last thing he remembers is talking to Dumbledore in the park, and then maybe Hestia Jones and Dedalus Diggle?

It all feels like a fever dream, and perhaps it is. He wouldn't put it all past being a hallucination. He gets like this, sometimes, after the full moon.

A hand is sweeping through his hair. As the minutes go on slowly by, blurred details start to solidify and gain substance in his mind. The conversation with Dumbledore definitely happened, he's sure of it, and so did the encounter with Hestia and Dedalus. He frowns. Maybe the part when Dedalus beats his nagging pocket watch is of his own imagination, though.

But what had they been doing there? They'd been warning him about something, and they'd also been in a hurry . . . Something about Death Eaters . . .

He gasps and jerks upwards as the memories suddenly flood back, and he can see jets of coloured light rushing at him behind his eyelids.

'Oww . . .' He clutches his head and blinks rapidly, his eyes wide, waiting impatiently for his sight to come back to him.

'Oi! Watch it. You nearly made me spill my tea,' says the person next to him, mildly.

He twists his pounding head to look at them, blinking rapidly, and eventually his eyes focus, and he can see Dorcas sitting beside him on the beige sofa, drinking tea.

'Careful, now,' she says, reaching up to feel his forehead again. 'You've been out quite a while. Hit your head quite hard, didn't you?'

'I suppose.'

Dorcas nods sympathetically. 'You've got a massive lump on your forehead. I'd vanish it for you, but last time I tried that I took half the poor bloke's brain away with it. Marls says I can't do it again. You're out of luck.'

He can't tell if she's joking or not, so he just nods. 'Thanks for offering.' He swallows, and it's painful. His throat is as dry as sand.

'Tea?' she asks.

'Always.'

She smiles, and leaves the airy little sitting room to disappear into the kitchen. Remus takes the time to take a look around the room.

The flat is the complete opposite of the one Remus and Sirius share, except in terms of size. They're all still paying London rent, but while Sirius's flat is dark, messy, and run-down, Marlene and Dorcas have painted their flat a welcoming shade of eggshell blue, and the rest is all white. There's a large window flung open, and the view of the surrounding streets is far more relaxing than the view of other delapidated flats in desperate need of maintainance and the occasional stabbing, which is the sight that meets Remus's eyes every morning.

Dorcas reappears seconds later, with a second mug.

'You're fast.' He takes the mug from her, and takes a grateful swallow.

'Cheated,' she says with a grin, thumping down on the couch beside him. Her wand pokes out of her sleeve.

He winces at the movement.

'Sorry.'

'It's okay. Where's Marlene? Last thing I remember . . .'

Dorcas takes over. 'You've been out quite a while, like I said before.' She jerks her chin towards the window. 'It's dark out now. She dealt with her own injuries, and then headed out to update Moody and Dumbledore.'

'Bloody Dumbledore,' mutters Remus.

Dorcas eyes him curiously.

'Did you -- did you know that they were going to ambush Death Eaters in the park?' asks Remus hesitantly. 'Because I didn't, and everybody seems to know except for me. Even Sirius.'

Dorcas puts a hand on his knee. 'Marlene told me a bit about it, but I didn't know much else, if that helps. She'll be back any minute.'

Remus shakes her hand off angrily. 'I'm not waiting. I need to go home. Now.' He stands up shakily, and hobbles to the centre of the room.

'Remus . . .'

He ignores her, and closes his eyes and concentrates. The air crackles, and for a minute, he thinks it's going to work, but an invisible barrier hits him like a brick wall, and he collapses to the floor.

Dorcas sets down her mug and hurries to his side, but the flat door swings open, and his ears are assaulted by a booming laugh.

'Which blooming idiot tried to Apparate from the flat?' Marlene asks, tromping in loudly with her massive boots.

'I did,' growls Remus, humiliated.

She laughs again, and it fills the entire flat.

'I've got wards up, you know. Only an absolute muttonhead wouldn't! Wasn't one of your brighter ideas, Remus, I have to tell you.'

'My head's been bashed around like it is mutton,' says Remus through gritted teeth.

Marlene shrugs. 'Ah, well. I can't blame you. But Hyde Park, of all days! The luck you've got, Remus.'

'No need to rub it in,' he mutters resentfully.

'To tell the truth, I'm not sure why you even bothered trying, with the state you're in. I wouldn't know if you could even make it without the wards.'

'Again, mutton.'

'I think you should take him home, Marls,' says Dorcas. 'See me in the kitchen for a minute.'

'All right,' says Marlene. She waggles her finger at Remus. 'Don't you get up to anything silly while I'm gone.'

They both disappear into the kitchen, and Remus knows they're whispering about him.


	5. Chapter 5

They burst into the flat, Remus leaning heavily on Marlene.

She pushes ahead of him, and flips the light switch. 'Bit of a shitter in here,' she announces, looking around.

'I cleaned it this morning,' says Remus flatly.

'A clean shitter,' she corrects herself.

'Thanks.'

She reminds him of Sirius in some ways, with how unthinking she can be, possessing the ability to take the spotlight and command the room. But she's without much of the darkness Sirius carries with him, that oozes out at the end of the day, when it's just him and four walls.

She pulls off Remus's coat, and leaves her own on the coat hanger next to the other jackets. It sags under the weight.

'Come on,' she orders him, hauling him towards the couch. She's carrying him almost entirely. He couldn't move faster if he tried. 'Cuppa?' she asks after depositing him on the sofa.

'I'm all right,' he answers. 'Dorcas made me one before we left.'

'Bloody brilliant, isn't she?' beams Marlene.

Remus gives her a half-smile, but it's genuine. 'She is.'

'It's so dark in here.' Marlene pokes her head in the kitchen and round where the bedrooms are. 'SIRIUS!' she bellows.

Remus winces, covering his ears. 'He isn't here!'

Marlene looks puzzled. 'Where is he, then?'

'James and Lily's.'

Marlene nods understandingly. 'It's kind of him. I know James is the exact sort to go mad at that kind of confinement. Must be hell for him. He's probably driving Lily 'round the bend as well.' 

They both share a chuckle at the thought of their wild-haired friend.

'Probably,' agrees Remus.

'I'm still confused. What were you doing at Hyde Park, and why were you there? Didn't Sirius tell you?'

Remus shrugs, and draws his knees up to his chest.

Marlene eyes him shrewdly. 'How're things between you and Sirius? This bloody war's putting a strain on even the best of us.'

'I know you and Dorcas were talking about me and Sirius in the kitchen,' Remus bursts out.

'Maybe.' Her eyes give away nothing.

'Sirius and I are doing fine, you know. I just don't know why the whole Order seems to know about this, and I don't.'

'We don't all know about it,' says Marlene uncomfortably. 'A lot of us, yes, but not all of us.'

'Yes, I know,' snaps Remus. 'That's me. I'm the "not all of us" you're talking about.'

'If it helps, I wasn't really supposed to tell Dorcas, either.'

'But you did.'

They sit in uneasy silence for a while after that, silence that even Marlene can't fill.

Eventually, she looks up at the clock. The clock that creaks when it ticks, with shuddering hands, and reminds everyone of itself all the time. 

'Would you look at that. It's quite late. You should get to bed, you've had a rough day.'

'I don't want to go to bed,' says Remus petulantly.

'I'll take the couch. You're still injured, and you shouldn't be by yourself.'

'You don't have to stay the night just because Dorcas said so.'

'I'm not staying the night just because Dorcas said so,' says Marlene, grabbing a thin cushion, and putting it on one end of the sofa.

'I don't want you to take the couch, and I don't want to go to sleep.'

'Well you are,' says Marlene, showing a hint of temper for the first time.

'Fine.'

'Fine.'

Remus faces away from her on the sofa. He knows he's being childish, and he doesn't ever think he's behaved like this before, but he's just been abandoned and lied to by his supposed "life companion" and been attacked by the bloodthirsty minions of a Pureblood-supremacist Dark wizard, so he thinks he's allowed.

'Remus,' says Marlene after a while, her voice more gentle now. 'I'm sorry for talking to you like that. You've had a shit day.'

'I have,' agrees Remus.

'Why isn't Sirius here, with you?'

Remus shrugs helplessly. There's a fizzing in his nose and a burning in his eyes, and he's afraid he'll break down and tell her everything if he's not careful.

'Tell me.' Her voice is firm and insistent. 'He loves you, and he should be here for you. He's the one in the wrong this time, no matter what he says.'

'You don't know that.' His voice croaks horribly, and he keeps his face turned away from her.

'Well, I know him,' she says, her voice teasing. 'Remember when he and I went out for a while, back in fourth year, before we both discovered we were both miles deep in the closet and I was raging gay for Dorcas, and he was even more raging gay for you?'

Remus chuckles weakly. 'I don't know if anyone can be even more raging gay than you,' he retorts.

'I'll take that as a compliment. Anyhow, even then, he wasn't the best boyfriend. Don't get me wrong, he's got a good heart, and he'd die for you, it's obvious, anyone could see -- but he always asked for too much without giving the same in return.'

'And he can't take any responsibility for anything he does.'

'That is also very true.'

Remus thinks carefully before speaking. He knows he can trust Marlene, he's just not sure how much she can handle. 'Sirius . . . wants a child.'

'I've seen the ad in the Daily Prophet.'

'And why aren't you two going for it?'

Marlene frowns in thought. 'For starters, we're both far too young, and we're nowhere near ready. The treatment is still in its testing stages, and we don't know how it will turn out. They say that it's for two people of the same sex to have a child together, but we can't be sure of how they'd react when faced by the reality of a same-sex couple. I reckon it's meant for Purebloods without any heirs, to stop the bloodline from dying out. Completely unethical, if you ask me.'

'I've mentioned most of that to Sirius.'

'We're in the middle of a war, as well. It isn't safe. Take James and Lily as an example.'

'That's exactly what Sirius is doing,' grumbles Remus. 'He wants us to be exactly like them, and I hate it when everything we do is compared to the gold standard of the Nuclear Potters of Quaint Cottage in Godric's Hollow.'

Marlene chuckles. 'I don't think they'd like to be called that. The Nuclear Potters. You know, during our days at Hogwarts, I'd never have imagined James married at eighteen, let alone with a child at twenty.'

'They weren't ready,' says Remus. 'They still aren't.'

'Is anybody ever really?' asks Marlene. 

'That's not all. He thinks I don't want to because of him. Because of his own problems . . . and his family.'

Marlene nods, understanding immediately. 'But that's not all?'

Remus hesitates. 'It's got more to do with me than him. I've got a . . . certain _disease_ \-- nothing deadly --' he assures her quickly, seeing the horrified look on her face, 'but we don't know all the effects of this treatment, and I don't want to curse any child with it. I don't think he's considered that part. Instead, he's leapt ahead and forgotten to think about any implications on my end, and chosen to take it personally.'

Marlene pauses and bites her lip. 'Can I ask what disease this is?'

'Best if you don't,' says Remus.

'Okay.'

'You sure you want to stay the night?'

Marlene nods firmly. 'Of course. Even if Sirius doesn't know what's happened, it's still not okay for him to just pack up and leave you in the lurch like this. It's not normal.'

 _'We_ aren't normal,' Remus tells her. 'Living like _this_ isn't normal.'

'It isn't.'

'And family's a sensitive topic for him. You know that, you went out with him yourself, like you said. He's got a reason for reacting how he did.'

'Stop making excuses for him,' says Marlene sharply. 'I've got a good mind to send a strong-worded call down to Godric's Hollow myself.'

'Don't,' begs Remus.

Marlene huffs out a breath in disappointment. 'All right, I won't if you don't want me to.'

'I don't.'

The clock squeals loudly, and Marlene looks back up at it. 'Now it really _is_ late. You okay to make your way to bed by yourself?'

He nods.

She pushes his folded legs with her feet. 'Well get off my sofa, then. And get me a blanket while you're at it. My tits are freezing off.'

Remus smiles. 'Can't let that happen, can we? Dorcas would never forgive me.'

'They're all she's with me for!' exclaims Marlene, tossing her hands up in the air. 'You'd be left without your dick, and I'd be left without a girlfriend.'

'Ouch,' says Remus, wincing at the thought, and getting up to get her a blanket. He returns with it a minute later. 'Have a good night, or at least as good of one as you can have on that flea infested rubbish tip save.'

'Ugh.' She pokes the couch gingerly, and makes a face. 'I wasn't going to say anything.'

The thing may well be infested with fleas, courtesy of Messr Padfoot.

'Night.'

'Night,' she replies.

He heads to the room he and Sirius share. He wonders if he should sleep in his own bed for once, but realises that he's far too lonely for that, and if he's going to ruin any pillows with his tears, they may as well be Sirius's.

He lies there for a couple hours, staring at the gibbous moon outside, tugging on his bones, and reminding him he's diseased every time it runs its light across his body. In just a bit, it will be tearing his skin back and bones apart, and then it will take his mind.

The sheets smell strongly of Sirius, and he wonders if Sirius is as lonely without him as he is without Sirius. Probably not. He's got James and Lily and Harry there. 

Every snore of Marlene's, every creak of the floorboards, and every shuddering of the clock jolts Remus wide-awake from any half-sleep he might have otherwise slipped into. He's waiting for Sirius, even if he doesn't want to admit it.

It's nearly one in the morning, when the kitchen phone rings. Remus is surprised it works at all, considering Sirius is the one who set it up. He doesn't know anything much about Muggle technology with the exception of motorbikes, but it seems to be working anyway.

He kicks the thick blankets he's cocooned himself in aside, and scurries to the kitchen, flicking on the dimmer, flourescent lights to avoid waking Marlene. She's already stirring in her sleep from the ringing of the telephone. 

He waits until she's settled back into her slumber before picking up the telephone with clumsy fingers, cursing as he nearly drops it on the hard tiles.

'Hello?' he says warily.

' _How are you, Remus?_ ' comes James's voice, grainy through the telephone wires.

'I'm all right,' says Remus tersely. 'How're things with Lily and Harry?'

' _Great, they're great_ ,' answers James, and Remus can imagine him raking his fingers through his messy hair. 

'I'm guessing Sirius arrived at yours earlier today.'

There's a pause. ' _Yeah, he did_ ,' admits James. ' _In a bit of a state, as well. He was saying something about not being good enough, and something you said about his family. I haven't seen him this fucked up in -- well, in a while._ '

Remus closes his eyes, trying to suppress the waves of pain James's words send through him. 'He's managed to make me the villain, and himself the victim, I see.'

 _'He said he wants to have a child with you, Remus, and you don't want that._ ' James sounds uneasy. ' _I'm sure it's not as bad as he makes it sound, but maybe you should try to understand where he's coming from. It's natural that he'd want to have his own kid, with someone he loves, and maybe raise that child the way he wishes he'd been raised. Give the love he was never given._ '

Remus inhales, ready to explain to James all the other reasons Sirius hasn't considered, blown past in his own wilful hurricane only he stands in the eye of, but then he realises he's tired, and he really doesn't care that much. It seems like they've all chosen sides already. Why should he bother?

'Okay,' he says simply.

 _'Sirius means a lot to me, you know_ ,' says James. ' _He's like a brother to me. He_ is _my brother. And he's been hurt before, and I'd hate to see him hurt again. I said before, I haven't seen him this upset since -- well, a while. I think it would be best if you gave it some time.'_

'Okay,' whispers Remus, again.

He can hear the click of the other receiver as James puts it down.


	6. Chapter 6

Remus smiles and stretches sleepily, his eyes still closed, and reaches for Sirius's hand beneath the sheets. It seems like it's going to be one of those mornings: quiet, with breakfast in the kitchen together, and maybe some light-hearted conversation. Nothing dark, nothing too serious, nothing about anything that's happening around them right now.

Remus is still half-asleep, and he wonders why there's a vague sense of foreboding hanging about in his chest. It tells him to go back to sleep, to stop trying to think about it, and bask in his belief that it will all turn out all right in the end, while he can. He wants to hang onto this feeling more than anything, to comfort himself with oblivion before it fades, to be replaced with the harsh truths of reality.

He burrows further within the blankets, feeling for a hand, an arm, a leg, anything, but his fingers are met with miles of empty bed-clothes. The other side of the bed is stone cold.

'Sirius!' cries Remus, sitting up in a hurry, and digging through the sheets frantically. It isn't like Sirius to be up before him, and the rest of the flat is silent, which is even more unlike Sirius. 

Remus blinks away sleep, trying to think, and then the niggling thought that has been pounding on the sides of his skull for ages suddenly forces its way in, and all at once the horrible events of the day previous come back to Remus in a flood.

His heart sinks down to his toes, and suddenly the banging pain in his head is back, as if it had been summoned by the very memory of it.

The morning light creeps into the flat far too early, and Remus wants to curse the sun from its place in the sky and freeze all the chirping birds where they twitter and fly, and then watch them drop to the ground at his feet.

It isn't at all the morning he imagined, and that is painfully obvious on his face, he realises, as he looks at himself in Sirius's mirror on the wall. There he is, sitting on the bed surrounded by far more blankets than he needs, toussle haired, and with big black circles beneath his eyes. 

As if he needed any kind of reminder of how awful his night had been.

Marlene had been right. How dare Sirius leave him when he was like this, especially this close to the moon?

Marlene. She was probably still asleep on the sofa. He feels ashamed at the thought of her roughing it in his sitting room because of him. He thinks he maybe should have offered her his own room; he hasn't slept there in months.

Common etiquette says Remus should probably be in the kitchen, making her breakfast as some sort of compensation for the likely terrible night she's spent on his couch, so he gathers all the willpower he has, and forces his unwilling body out of bed, albeit with a lot of muttering and groaning.

He's still wearing the shirt and trousers he was wearing yesterday, so there's no need for him to change.

His joints crackle painfully as he makes his way to the sitting room to check on Marlene. There she is, still sleeping peacefully, although she looks extremely uncomfortable, folded up on a sofa that's far too short, considering her height. She's still in her combat clothes. Remus wants to die of shame as he realises he hadn't even offered her a change of clothes.

He glances up at the clock. It's far more early than he'd thought. In fact, it's far too bright outside to be the hour that the clock says it is. It creaks and gives another juddering tick.

He might as well take advantage of the hour and make himself presentable enough to stop embarrassing himself in front of Marlene. A shower is in order.

He glances down at her one more time, his chest flooding with gratitude for all she's done for him, and he notices her fist clutched tightly around her wand. It's pointing upwards. He stares at it, and wonders if she's slept like that all night.

With another glance at the clock, he shuffles towards the bathroom, stopping off at Sirius's bedroom to grab some clean clothes from the chair.

The bathroom is tiny, and there's mould flourishing in growing colonies in some spots on the ceiling, but at least the water is strong and hot. It's nothing compared to the Hogwarts showers, remnisces Remus longingly, roughly jerking the tap to the right, and the flow is erratic, but it's enough for him to wash away his troubles in warm water and lather, at least for half an hour. 

His thoughts wander everywhere and anywhere but Sirius, carefully kept away from that certain topic, but by the time he's finished scrubbing and rinsing robotically and almost mindlessly, Remus feels as if he's processed a great deal more of the events of yesterday. It doesn't make everything that happened okay, of course, but he feels as if he understands why things had gone the way they had a little better.

He dresses quickly, certain that Marlene's up by now; if the creaking of the pipes wouldn't wake her up, then he isn't sure what would.

As he steps out, the smell of frying eggs and bacon floods his nose and he realises just how hungry he is. He hasn't had anything but a cup of tea since this time yesterday.

'Made yourself comfortable in my kitchen.' He's greeted by the sight of Marlene frying up pretty much everything that's been left in their fridge for the past couple weeks. He hopes the eggs aren't dodgy.

'Wasn't easy,' snarks back Marlene, flipping an egg.

Remus hides a smile.

'You like 'em sunny side up?'

'I like 'em not off, thanks.'

Marlene pokes an egg gingerly with a spatula, and leans closer to inspect it. 'Doesn't look too green,' she says doubtfully.

Remus shrugs. 'Well, we're either going to die of starvation or food poisoning, and of the two, I'd sooner choose the latter.'

'Really?'

'It's quicker. I think.'

'Shitting your guts out, or feeling them curl up and shrivel to nothing inside of you,' muses Marlene. 'Both fine choices.'

Remus laughs wryly. 'Anyway, how'd you sleep?'

'Better than you, by the looks of it,' says Marlene, looking him over. She sounds more worried than sarcastic, for once.

'Rude.'

'No, I mean it. You look like you haven't slept at all. Still overthinking things?'

'It isn't "overthinking",' huffs Remus. 'It's thinking over things that ought to be thought over.'

'Get some plates out,' orders Marlene. She divides the eggs and bacon between the two of them, and they carry their dishes to the table, leaving the pan on the stove. 'Bloody rickety table you've got here.'

'Really? I hadn't noticed,' he says, as the table rocks from one uneven leg to the other.

She gives him a look. 'How's your head, after yesterday?'

'Good as new,' lies Remus. 'You'll be back to Dorcas in no time. I bet she's been missing you.'

'She'll be fine,' says Marlene, squinting at the bump on Remus's head. 'I've seen a good many head injuries like yours in my day, and none of them have ever gone back to normal this quickly.' She fixes him with a stern look. 'You wouldn't happen to be lying to me, would you?'

'I've dealt with a lot worse. It's not that bad.' Technically, he isn't lying. Her steely gaze continues to bore into him, her eyes like gimlets, and finally, he breaks down. 'Fine! It's still throbbing where I hit it, quite a bloody bit actually. I'm also having some difficulty remembering everything at once.'

'Ha! I knew it!' exclaims Marlene, pointing the spatula at him, accusatory. She's been using it to eat her eggs with, due to a lack of clean cutlery and an inclination to wash any.

Remus wipes egg yolk off his cheek. 'You don't have to sound so happy about it. Also, watch where you're flicking that thing.'

'Sorry. But if your headache persists, you should probably get it checked out at St. Mungo's. Pomfrey could do it for you, if you really don't want to go in.'

Remus's heart lifts a little at the thought of seeing Madam Pomfrey again, but he shakes his head. 'I'll be fine. Honestly. I'll just lie down and drink lots of tea. Average afternoon.' He smiles tightly.

Marlene gives him a scrutinising stare. 'I still think you should at least get it looked at, make sure there's no damage done. Merlin knows I'm not the best at healing. But I can't force you to do anything you don't want to.'

'I'll bet you could,' mutters Remus, and Marlene huffs a laugh.

'Finished with your plate?' she asks him. 

He nods, and she takes both the plates and deposits them in the sink. 

'I'll leave those for Sirius, I think,' she says.

'I'll be the one stuck with them,' complains Remus. 

'You don't think he'll be back for that long?' inquires Marlene, sympathy in her eyes.

Remus shrugs. 'I'm always the first to apologise.' His voice is hollow.

'You shouldn't have to be.' She waves her wand, and the dishes are vigourously scrubbed, and clunked heavily into the dish-rack. 

There's an awkward pause. 'If I'm honest, I expected better of James and Lily. Especially Lily,' she frowns.

'It's not their fault,' says Remus, somewhat defensively. 'And Lily's always been there for me. Now she's being there for Sirius.'

'You mean he's told them his own version of things, and you haven't,' Marlene corrects him shrewdly.

'I got a call from James last night.' He hadn't meant to tell her, but it just comes pouring out.

Her eyebrows raise. 'And then?'

He takes a deep breath. 'He didn't seem angry or anything like that, but he's told me to back off for a bit. He doesn't want to see Sirius get hurt again. Sirius _is_ like a brother to him, you know.'

'Again, with the excuses. James can make up his own, just fine. Believe me, anyone who was at Hogwarts with him can see that. He doesn't need you doing it for him.' 

'You're right, I suppose.'

'Damn right, I am.' She eyes him shrewdly. 'I've got a strong feeling that there's more to this whole business about a baby than you've told me, and I'm not going to press on it any more, but you should know this, Remus Lupin. You'd make the best father, no matter what.'

'Thank you,' mumbles Remus, looking at the table. His eyes are burning.

Marlene, of course, spots this with her eagle eyes. 'Oh, don't be such a wuss!' she exclaims, elbowing him roughly. She walks out the kitchen, and into the sitting room and picks up her stuff. Remus walks her to the flat door. 'If you need a bit of company, you're always welcome in our flat.'

'Thanks,' says Remus gratefully. 'Marlene, I can't thank you enough for all you've done for me. You didn't have to take care of me and stay the night and sleep on that awful sofa.' He covers his face with embarrassment and drags his hand down roughly. 'For God's sake, I didn't even offer you a change of clothes and a shower.'

Marlene just smiles and rests a hand on his shoulder, after shrugging on her jacket. 'Remus, I know I didn't have to sleep on that couch of yours. I didn't even want to! But you're my friend, and you needed it, so I came through.' She shudders. 'And don't threaten me with the thought of having a shower in that bathroom you've got in there.'

Remus shakes his head in disapproval. 'I'm not sure what the neighbours will think, you leaving in the same clothes you came in. It's rather indecorous, don't you think?'

Marlene flashes him a sarcastic grin. 'Frankly, I couldn't care less about the opinion of anyone who chooses to live in this festering shithole of a hive of their own free will. And also I smelled weed from about six different doors when we arrived, so I doubt many of them would notice if I waltzed through this building wearing a glowing Erumpent hide.'

'Fair enough,' chuckles Remus.

Marlene makes her way down the first flight of stairs. 'I'm on an Order mission later, so if you pop round, don't panic if I'm not there or if I'm a bit late.'

'Wait! What Order mission?' shouts Remus, but she's already several flights down and most likely out of earshot.

'See you!' she yells back, most likely mishearing him.

He stands in the door frame for a minute, staring after her, and feeling rather left behind by his peers. He slams the door shut.


	7. Chapter 7

With a horrific crack, and a nauseating twist of all his internal organs, Remus finds himself outside the Potter's garden gate in the quaint little town of Godric's Hollow.

The village is a vision straight from a fairytale written in the eighteenth century. The streets are cobbled, country pubs are dotted here and there, and there's a village well, for Merlin's sake. He's sure all the villagers are also regular attendants of the local chapel, every Sunday. It's the complete opposite of where Remus and Sirius live in London, and if he's honest, he can see the allure.

After all, he's a born and bred Welsh lad, and this little west-country village is the closest he's been to home in years. There's something different in the air, he muses, taking a deep breath in, before pushing open the gate and heading down the garden path.

It's overgrown with flowers and herbs Lily had insisted on planting, but had obviously neglected to tend to. It's still beautiful in its own way, he thinks, as he carefully pushes his way through it, lifting his legs over plants one by one to avoid crushing anything precious.

He can hear laughing voices from the living room, although the curtains are still drawn. He supposes he's lucky enough to be granted the privelige of knowing where the house is, although he wasn't chosen to be their Secret Keeper. Still, he thinks, it's only natural they chose Sirius. He is, after all, more Potter than Black.

He lifts his hand up to reach for the bronze knocker. It's been enchanted to resemble a lion, although it was just plain brass before. Remus shakes his head, a near smile haunting the corners of his mouth. _Only James._

He hesitates, then raps it sharply, telling himself to stop overthinking.

Somebody inside yells at somebody else to get the door, and after a minute of arguing, the door is swung wide open by a messy haired James. 

'Remus!' he exclaims delightedly, leaning forward and enveloping him in a bone-crushing hug. He releases him half a minute later, leaving Remus wheezing and rubbing his ribcage. 'It's Remus!' he shouts into the hallway. 'Lily, it's Remus!'

Remus smiles at James's excitement. The poor man must be going insane with boredom. 

'Send him through!' Lily shouts back. 'I'm in the kitchen!'

'Will do!' bellows James, turning back to Remus with a smile that makes him look as though he's stuffed a hanger in his mouth and left it there for a good couple weeks. His smile fades a little as he takes Remus in fully. 'But Merlin, Remus, you're in a bit of a state.' He reaches forward and pulls a large piece of fluff or dust out of Remus's hair.

'So are you!'

'When's the last time you slept?' asks James critically.

'Last night,' answers Remus defensively.'You don't look like you've slept in an eon, either.'

James's shoulders sag, and suddenly, the dark circles beneath his usually bright eyes stand out starkly against his skin. 'I haven't,' he says, dropping his voice. 'Harry's up, day and night, hungry, crying, or in need of a nappy change, and I haven't slept a WINK!'

He grabs Remus's collar and shakes him, looking insane. 'Woah. Okay,' says Remus, worried. He removes James's hands from his coat. 'Can I come in?'

'Yeah, yeah. Of course,' answers James quickly, looking surprised that Remus had even asked. 'What took you so long?'

'You _did_ say to give it time,' Remus points out. 'I'm not too soon, am I?'

A look of guilt comes across James's face. 'No, no, nothing of the sort. And I'm sorry about all that. But you know how he gets sometimes. Leaving it for a bit was probably the best thing you could do.'

'Probably.'

James gives a start. 'You should come through and see Lily in the kitchen. She's been going mad with just me and Sirius to talk to in the house.'

'Can't blame her,' jokes Remus. 'I'd most likely end up murdering one of you on day one. Patience of a saint, that woman has, putting up with you for all these years.'

James lifts his chin. 'I'm quite the catch, actually. You could say _she's_ lucky to be with _me_.'

'The five years you spent chasing after me relentlessly night and day beg to differ,' says Lily, appearing in the kitchen door with a mug of tea in her hand. 'You'd be a broken shell of a man without me, Potter.'

She vanishes back into the kitchen, and Remus and James are left staring at each other in the hallway.

Remus is the first to break to break the silence. 'She's right, you know.'

'Shut it, you stupid werewolf,' growls James, following his wife into the kitchen.

Remus goes in after him, and mumbles an awkward greeting to Lily, who's sitting at the kitchen table, drinking a mug of tea. She returns it, her eyes grazing over his rough appearance, but she doesn't comment on it.

'Want one?' she offers, pointing to her mug. 'We've run out of the good stuff, but it's hot and I can put Firewhisky in it for you.'

'Best offer I've been made in a lifetime.'

She gets up and fills the kettle with water from the tap, hanging it on the stove to boil the Muggle way.

'Marlene told us about the attack,' says Lily, leaning against the counter. She eyes the red welt on his forehead sympathetically. 'We got her Patronus about a day ago.'

'She and Dorcas took good care of me, so there's no need to worry.' Even to him, it sounds sarcastic, bitter.

Lily's eyes flood with remorse, and she runs over to him, flinging her arms around him. 'Oh, we have been worrying, Remus. I'm always worrying about you. Aren't I, James?'

James nods seriously. 'All the time. It's all I ever hear. It's always: "James, is Remus sleeping enough?" or "James, do you think Remus eats enough?" or "James" --' he notices Lily's glare and stops short, clearing his throat. 'But you get the picture. Sometimes I think she's your wife, and not mine.'

Lily releases him, and he's almost sorry to see her go. 'It's just that -- after the phone call -- I thought it would be best --'

Remus cuts her off. 'I understand.'

'We were all shocked,' says James. 'Hyde Park, Remus! We didn't know, and Sirius was horrified.'

'That's something of a comfort, I guess. For a moment there, I thought everyone knew about Hyde Park but me.'

Lily shook her head. 'He didn't even tell us.'

Remus checks the hallway. 'Where is he?' he asks, lowering his voice.

'With Harry in the --'

'I'm here.' Sirius appears in the doorway like a dark ghost, not looking much better than Remus himself. 

Remus straightens up immediately, his demeanour hardening instantly, although it isn't intentional. 'How are you?' he asks, and it's far too formal and harsh.

Sirius looks taken aback, but mentions nothing. 'I'm doing all right. And you?'

'I'm doing all right as well.'

'That's not what I heard.' Remus waits for it: the pity-filled sweep from head to toe, and then back to his head again. But it doesn't come. Sirius keeps on staring at him intensely.

Remus shrugs. 'Marlene took care of it all.' 

He's surprised he doesn't feel more at the sight of Sirius; he'd expected more feelings of anger and at least a few harsh words from himself.

Sirius looks like he wants to say something, but then he just nods. 'I'll just be with Harry in the sitting room,' he mumbles, and vanishes.

'I should probably go after him,' says James, looking regretful. 

'Probably,' echoes Lily.

James goes.

The kettle has begun to shriek, and Lily takes it off the stove promptly. A minute later she plonks a mug of tea on the opposite side of the table. 'Sit.'

He does.

'So how was it all really?' asks Lily.

'Well, it was no "walk in the park",' answers Remus, smiling foolishly.

Lily huffs in annoyance, and tries to hide her smile. 'Don't you get silly with me, Remus Lupin.'

'I wouldn't dream of it,' says Remus, taking a sip of tea. His eyes water at how hot it is. 'You wouldn't, by any chance have happened to give the Invisibility Cloak to Dumbledore, would you?'

Lily frowns. 'I don't think so, but you can ask James. Why do you ask?'

'No reason. I just thought you might have.'

'All jokes aside now,' says Lily, looking a lot more serious, 'what exactly is going on between you and Sirius?'

'I haven't got a clue,' says Remus, and it isn't all lies.

'Sirius told us about the situation when he arrived,' admits Lily, 'but I'm not sure he's telling us the entire story. He arrived in a state, it took him about an hour to calm down and talk to any of us.'

'Sounds like him,' says Remus bitterly.

'He gave us quite the tale, saying you'd said this about him and that about his family. I'm not saying I trust his telling of events entirely, but is what he wants such a bad thing, Remus?'

Remus sets his cup of tea down, suddenly unable to breathe. 

Lily finishes her own drink, and carries the mug over to the sink. 'You should trust yourself more, Remus,' she tells him on her way back, and pats his shoulder. 'Any child would be lucky to call you their father.'

With that, she leaves the kitchen, and Remus is left alone with his mug, which is more Firewhisky than tea.

He shakes his head and carries it over to the sink, tipping the rest of the mug's contents out. He'll need a clear head for the rest of the day.

He heads to the kitchen door, in suit of Lily, and a hand closes around his arm. James is hanging awkwardly at the door.

'Lily's right, you know. She usually is, about these things. You might find it hard to believe, but I had my own doubts as well.'

'Of course _you_ did,' says Remus scathingly. 'It's you and Lily, James. And you were twenty, and you weren't ready. And now I'm twenty-one, and even if I was ready, there are still a hundred things that both you and Sirius haven't stopped to think about before jumping to your own conclusions.'

'You didn't say all those things about him and his family, did you?' asks James, with the air of somebody only just realising something major.

'Of course I didn't,' spits Remus. 'How long have you known me for, James?'

James's ears burn red with shame. 'I'm sorry. I shouldn't have -- and the phone call --'

'Don't. It's fine. I know what he can be like. And he's your brother. You'd do anything for him.'

'But not at the expense of my other brother,' says James gently.

'It's different between you and Sirius,' says Remus, and they both know it's true.

James exhales nervously, rubbing his head at the back. 'Remus, when he arrived -- I hadn't seen him anywhere near as worked up since he turned up at my doorstep at sixteen, all bleeding and bruised and crying. I didn't know what to think -- I assumed the worst, that you really had done what he'd said, that you said all those awful things to him -- I can't believe he'd lie to me,' says James, looking dumbfounded.

Remus gives him a sad smile. 'I don't think he was lying about it exactly -- I just think that Sirius expects to hear certain things and that he fills in the gaps in what we say to him in a way that he can understand. And then he makes it real in his head.'

James's mouth curls into a sympathetic grimace.

'It's just another reason why I don't think any of this is a good idea.'

'You should know that he does love you, very much, and probably more than you can understand, and that he'd love any child of yours no matter what.'

A pang strikes through Remus's heart. He nods stiffly.

James claps him on the shoulder, and heads up the stairs. Remus supposes this is his cue to go and talk to Sirius.

He pads silently into the sitting room, his mind racing with a thousand things he's supposed to say. Where does he even begin?

None of this was really his fault, and none of it is really even Sirius's, if he thinks about it. Sirius hadn't sown the doubts in his mind on his own.

He stands in the doorway of the sitting room. Sirius is engaged in some sort of complex game with Harry, who doesn't really understand the rules and keeps giggling every ten seconds, but both of them seem to be enjoying themselves thoroughly.

Sirius's face is lit up with a childish delight he'd never been allowed to feel, and Remus feels something tender and protective swell up within his chest. It's an odd combination, and it comes together to form an emotion he can't name, but something inside him is changed, and it won't ever go back to how it was again.

He must have made a noise, because Sirius turns in surprise and sees him standing there. He gives him a smile, and in that moment Remus realises he'd do anything to see Sirius smile like that.

'Cigarette?' he offers, extending the pack. His voice creaks horribly.

Sirius pats Harry lightly on the head, and enchants a small stuffed bird to fly around Harry's head and keep him busy. 'Dying for one. Outside?'

'Maybe it's best,' says Remus, looking at Harry.

They both head out the front door, and they talk for hours about everything, from the Order, to Sirius's parents, to the war, to lycanthropy, James and Lily, and children.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: gore and slight horror

_It's far too dark, and Remus can't see a thing._

_Twigs crackle beneath his feet as he fumbles his way through the forest, and brambles sting his exposed leg where the fabric of his trousers has been torn away roughly._

_He can't remember much; he only knows that he's lost and he has been for a while now. The branches overhead rustle and shift, and the leaves whisper. Remus looks over his shoulder uneasily, a jolt of fear going through his heart as the moon shines momentarily through the trees, casting gruesome shadows in the tree bark and playing tricks with his mind._

_He watches, mesmerised for a moment as a silvery ghoul of some sort with perverted and distorted features seems to melt right out of a tree trunk and disappear and reappear wherever the moonlight chooses to dapple this corner of the woods with its unearthly light._

_If his feet weren't still moving, his legs pumping robotically and mechanically to keep him covering ground, he would have been frozen with fear. He's unable to make a sound, rendered mute by terror, but his heart keeps thumping loudly in his chest, filling it so that it crushes his lungs and he can't breathe properly._

_A twig slices deeply into the soft skin of his turned cheek, and he lets out a yell of pain as scarlet drops of blood fall onto his hand as he lifts it to stop the flow. He suddenly realises that he's been hyperventilating loudly this whole time, making horrific yelping sounds as he's been moving through the trees._

_He turns back to the last place he thought he'd spotted the creature. It isn't there anymore. He can't tell if he's relieved, or even more frightened now. Had he scared it off with his bellowing, or had it never really been there in the first place?_

_In his head, he instructs his feet to stop moving, but they won't. They keep him moving, and the woods seem to blur and twist oddly as he passes by. If a place could be echoing, then that is exactly what this place would be doing right now._

_He scans the trees as he proceeds past them, and wonders what kind of other attention he'd attracted to himself, making the racket he had made. He has no sense of time, and he could have been here for anything ranging from hours, to years._

_A slow, insidious sense of panic creeps over him and spreads from his chest to his head, and then his legs, as he starts to dash through the woods at top speed, his clothes catching and tearing on bushes and trees, but he doesn't care. All of his exposed flesh is stinging and tender from being cut and bruised by the shrubbery, but he has no control over his body as unintelligible shouts of terror burst from his mouth, and he's charging into the unknown._

_Each stride could be taking him further and further from where he's meant to be, but he can't bring himself to care, unless he's moving. For all he knows, there never was an outside world, and these dark woods filled with ghastly faces and unseen creatures that make mournful sounds are all that ever was._

_The last rational part of his brain tries to reason with him, to calm himself down. His name is Remus Lupin. He had a mother, and he had a father, and he comes from somewhere. Somewhere that isn't the Woods, so these dark Woods can't be all that ever was._

_He has a name, he has a family, and he doesn't have a wand. He has people who he cares about, he hopes, and a series of faces flashes through his mind._

_'Padfoot!' he finds himself shouting. He doesn't know what it means, but the weight of it on his tongue is comforting and familiar, somehow. He's sure he's said it to someone who isn't himself or one of the creatures that haunts the forest. 'Prongs! Wormtail! Harry! Lily! Lyall! Hope!'_

_If they weren't all mostly so absurd, they almost could have been names._

_But with that, he finds himself flailing and crashing forwards, and stumbling out of the trees. He's come to the edge of the forest, and all that's before him are rolling hills, and a lake in the distance. There's a magnificent castle on the hill, and something tells him it's called Hogwarts._

_It feels safe for some reason, and he lets out what sounds like a cross between a wail and a sob of relief at his emergence from the woods, because he'd almost let the whispering of the trees into his head and let them tell him that they were all that was his world._

_He's convinced they're alive, in a way._

_He glances up at the moon, letting the rays bathe his skin, and with a dropping sensation in his stomach, he remembers exactly who he is, and why beasts like him shouldn't be out on nights like this._

_'Fuck, fuck, fuck!' he roars, cursing at the full moon in the sky, and making a run for where he knows the entrance to the Shrieking Shack to be. He doesn't have his wand on him, and his hands are trembling uncontrollably, so it takes him longer than it should to hit the hidden knob and shove his way into the tunnel._

_He forces his way along blindly, not allowing his mind to imagine what could be lurking in the dark, which is as tangible and as black as ink. It's like moving through liquid night._

_He doesn't know why he hasn't transformed already: if it's because the trees in the forest had decided that there were monsters enough lurking in it's branches and roots, or if it's because the moon hasn't recognised his mind as sentient enough to take._

_He's more monster than man, now, anyway._

_The trapdoor to the Shack is finally ahead, and Remus heaves a sigh of relief. Perhaps this is the time he gets lucky, and the Gods finally take pity on him. He isn't going to hurt anyone._

_He can't help but wonder where Padfoot, Prongs, and Wormtail are, although wishing for them is maybe pushing his luck. They've never failed to stand by his side as he's given his mind over to the moon, so he doesn't know where they've disappeared off to now. Maybe they're the price he paid to escape the Woods, or perhaps this is all a dream and his Padfoot, Prongs and Wormtail are his delirium induced guardian angels, cooked up by his febrile brain in a feverish attempt to come to terms with the world around him._

_He pushes the trapdoor open reluctantly, and hauls himself through._

_The most horrific scene meets his eyes: his hand flies to his mouth to stifle a scream as his bare and torn feet slip and slide in a thick, sticky stream of fresh blood on the wooden floor. Some it trickles through the cracks in the splintering wooden floorboards, and drips through like tea trickling between the gaps in the tiles._

_It's a bitterly cold night, and Remus can almost see steam coming off the reflective surface of the lake of darkening blood. It stains the floor where it sinks through, and the smell of it pierces and burns his sensitive nostrils._

_His eyes follow the path of the blood, to where the stream becomes narrower and more concentrated in clots, and his eyes come to rest upon the body of a large, butchered stag lying with his head slack against the wall. His eyes are glassy, and they reflect the moon, which shines in through the filthy window pane opposite._

_A small rodent lies beside the stag, its neck snapped and its body limp and torn._

_A low growl, and an answering snarl drags Remus's attention away from the horrific scene in front of him._

_Some kind of wolf, presumably a cub, crouches low, tail bristling, and eyes narrowed, as it tries to get at the dead animals. A great, big black dog stands in its way, growling back, as the wolf cub howls in hunger, and makes tentative movements, testing the extent to which its opponent will go._

_The dog is fully grown and stands between the rat and deer, and the wolf, but it's wounded, and leans more on one paw than the other. Remus can see a large gash through the muscle on its hind-leg, and the glisten of wet bone through the ripped meat. Caked blood covers the night-black fur._

_Still, the wolf cub is nearly the size of the dog, and infinitely more hungry. It doesn't seem like any ordinary wolf, and instinct tells Remus that the wolf could eat forever and ever, and still its appetite for blood would not be satiated._

_A sense of revulsion and disgust fills him as he stares at the wolf cub's blood stained maw, snapping open and shut, yellowed teeth shining in the cold light of the moon._

_The wolf throws back its head and howls. It leaps at the dog, locking its jaws around its neck, and suddenly Remus knows that this dog will never escape the death grip of the wolf. The two writhe on the ground, locked into a tussle. The dog whimpers, but battles on valiantly, whilst the wolf's jaws dig deeper, howling and baying in satisfaction at the taste of blood and its nearing victory._

_Remus stands by, knees locked together, meshing him in place essentially, as he watches, unable to step in and aid the dog, who_ _se_ _struggles only grow more and more pitiful and weak as the seconds wear on. Remus can see the life force draining from the dog, and his heart twists painfully in his chest as the light behind them grows dimmer and dimmer._

_He knows the dog has something to do with Padfoot, whoever that is. The slain stag and rat mean something to him as well. It itches and niggles at his brain infuriatingly, and he feels that this delapidated little shack wasn't the place he was meant to be tonight._

_Something's gone wrong, horribly wrong._

_The dog's legs stop kicking, and there's barely a spark of life left in its eyes. The cub opens its jaws to let out a howl of triumph, then its teeth sink back down into the dog's neck, crushing and snapping as the dog whines in pain and terror, locking eyes with Remus, as its eyes dull and glaze over._

_'Padfoot,' murmurs Remus, sinking to his knees in agony as he realises what's just happened. He's too overcome with grief for his friends to feel true anger; for Prongs against the wall, and for Wormtail crushed into his shadow._

_The moon lances through the window, all the more cold and blinding, and it blasts through Remus's bones like fire. It seems to suddenly remember its dues, and suddenly Remus is all hot and bubbling all over, like dynamite on flame, ready to ignite and burst open, as his bones start cracking and twisting. Thick, bristling fur tears through his skin, which stretches and snaps as his bones grow too far for his hide to withstand, and dark, thick claws slice through his palms._

_The cub finishes with poor Padfoot. It stops to watch Remus, more intrigued by his agony than it is by the bodies of his slain friends._

_Remus's horrific transformation is finally complete: the wolf cub cowers and lifts its neck in submission to its Alpha, to its sire._

_By a chance in a million, or perhaps a blessing of the whispering trees, Remus still retains his mind, and he backs away from the cub, whimpering in horror, and wishing for nothing more than escape, anything to get away from this and the glassy stares of his dead friends._

_The cub is quick to spot his Alpha's weakness, eyes narrowing in suspicion. It only takes a moment to fly right at him and bowl him over, as massive as he is. Remus is too stunned to fight back -- razor sharp teeth tear into his neck and rip the tender flesh there apart._

_He collapses, and his blood gushes out onto the floorboards, joining the congealing dark streams from the throats of his friends. The cub gnashes at his throat again, and Remus howls in anguish._

_His vision blackens, and he wakes up falling and screaming._


	9. Chapter 9

Remus stares ahead hollowly, numb and oblivious to his surroundings. The dark creases beneath his eyes have developed into black voids, and he knows he looks terrible. Beside him, Sirius sits with bouncing legs, his fingers intertwined with Remus's on his knee, beaming brightly. He looks positively beatific, but just as tired as Remus himself. Every now and then he'll ask something of Remus, or let Remus know just how excited he is, and how lucky they are, and Remus will mumble back words that are vaguely affirmative, to keep Sirius satisfied.

Sirius is so overly-cheerful and caught up in the bliss of it all, that Remus doesn't think he would notice if he crept out of the waiting area of the St. Mungo's clinic and Apparated somewhere far away.

The thought is tempting.

But's the day. The day that Remus has been awaiting, with both trepidation and longing, but now that it's arrived, he wishes he'd put it off a little bit longer, because now all of his doubts are swarming to the surface again, and it might just be too late to stop and think this over again.

He doesn't know how Sirius ever talked him into this, what he'd said to convince Remus of the fact that it would all turn out okay, and that they would be fine. Remus now sits outside the dreaded and long-awaited room, thoroughly disenchanted.

He'd be lying if he said he'd been sold all at once. Weeks had passed since their conversation at the Potters', and many more disagreements and arguments had occured since then. Remus is happy to be able to say that the past few times round, they'd had more honesty between them, but he doesn't think Sirius is being honest with himself over the gravity and implications of it all, and Remus certainly hasn't told him everything.

After all, it was only last night that he'd awoken, sweating and screaming, the images of his murdered friends firmly imprinted within his subconscious, slain by what was presumably his own progeny.

The racket had awoken Sirius, who'd simply put it down to nerves, and had raised himself sleepily at four in the morning to spend the next few hours relieving Remus of concerns he'd never even had. 

Remus had sat in silence, shaking and shivering in sweat, and not really hearing a word Sirius had to say. And then here they were, within the four mercilessly white walls of the small clinic.

He feels anxious and dizzy, and he wishes he could talk to Sirius, but he's engaged deep in conversation with a lesbian couple seated opposite them. Unlike Remus and Sirius, they both look fresh, over-joyed, and well-prepared. This clearly wasn't a hastily made or contentious decision for them. Neither of them was old by any definition, but they were definitely not twenty-one, and Remus is almost certain that neither of them is a werewolf.

'We're so excited, aren't we?' beams the woman with roughly-cut ear length hair. It fans out around her head like a fluffy halo.

Her girlfriend nods enthusiastically. 'We've been waiting for ages. I knew from the first time I saw her that she was going to be the one I settled down and had my kids with. I'm just so grateful we were given the opportunity to do it this way. I nearly cried when I saw the ad in the Daily Prophet!'

'Came in the room screaming,' affirms the first woman. 'I thought she'd gone mad.'

'So all in all, a good second date?' asks Sirius, his eyes twinkling.

They all laugh, and even Remus gives a weak chuckle.

The two women seem to notice him for the first time. 'And you?' asks the woman with the short hair kindly. 'How do you feel about all this? Excited? Nervous? Scared?'

'Yes,' mutters Remus stupidly, feeling heat rising in his collar and flooding his brain. His hands are slippery with sweat. 'Very . . . excited . . . So happy . . .'

Sirius's eyes widen with concern at the sight of him, the wide smile dropping slowly from his face. 'Remus? You okay?'

'Just a moment . . .' slurs Remus. 'Bathroom . . . be right back . . .'

One of the women anxiously inquires if everything's okay, and if they've got anything they're worried about.

'No, no, no, of course not,' answers Sirius sweepingly, 'Just nerves. You, on the other hand . . . That hair . . . ginger, for the love of God . . .'

Sirius's voice fades away as Remus stumbles into the bathroom, and slumps over on the sink. He drags his hand limply across the taps, and slaps water onto his face when it comes gushing out the taps at full speed. The circles under his eyes are darker and deeper than ever due to his recent transformation, and also the horrific dream he'd had last night. Flashes of it come back to him in snippets whenever he closes his eyes.

His scars are livid against his face, and his eyes look twisted in his feverish face. If anyone ever had a reason for putting off parenthood, Remus could wager than his would easily reach the top ten. How evil and selfish would it be to knowingly force this onto a child? Was he a crueler villain than Fenrir Greyback himself?

Remus splashes more cold water on his face and tries to block out any negative thoughts. This was what Sirius wanted, and its also what he wants, even if it's not now, and not in this way.

He staggers out the bathroom, longing for his seat again, and perhaps some silence in which to meditate or even just gather his thoughts, but is accosted by Sirius who far too loudly announces that it's their turn.

Remus scans the waiting room in confusion. 'But -- but where'd they go?' he asks weakly, wondering just how long he was in there for.'

Sirius waves his hand. 'Oh, they went and left. It's a much quicker process than you'd think. And we're next! Aren't you thrilled?'

His eyes are wet, and his voice is strong with passion. Remus looks into them, and finds he doesn't have the heart to protest. He answers with every ounce of enthusiasm he can muster, and allows himself to be dragged into room 101.

It's not really the number on the door, but a part of him he wants to ignore and squash down as deep as he possibly can chooses to call it that.

The room itself is small and unassuming, and honestly nothing resemblent of the torture chamber Remus had been picturing in his head. There's simply a bed, a chair, and a desk. It's like any other room in St. Mungo's Remus has ever been in. And that's quite a few.

The medi-witch who greets them at the door is welcoming and friendly. 'Come on in!' she says cheerily, ushering them in. Her hair is iron-gray, and in thick curls, but her eyes are warm and surrounded by smile lines. 

Remus and Sirius file in, Sirius bouncing on the balls of his feet.

'Excited, are we?' asks the medi-witch in the exact sort of patronising tone Remus has come to expect and loathe from Healers. She's smiling, and Remus knows she means well, but the spark of anger in him is stoked.

'More than I've ever been in my life,' answers Sirius, and Remus can tell that it's true. He feels awful, not being more happy for Sirius on the best day of his life, but he can't help it.

The medi-witch sits at the desk and flicks through a few records. 'Sirius . . . and Remus, are we?'

'That's us,' Sirius tells her.

The medi-witch eyes them up and down. 'Ah. It's as I expected.' Her voice drops. 'You're probably aware by now that I'm rather an old friend of Albus Dumbledore's. So I'm entirely familiar with your situation. With your . . . condition,' she says to Remus.

Sirius corrects her instantly. 'Furry little problem.'

She smiles again. 'Of course. The process should only take a few minutes, but before that, have you decided on how much of your DNA you'd each like to have in your child?'

'How much of our dee-nay we'd each like in our child?' repeats Sirius in bafflement.

'Yes. Typically one cell acts as the base for fusion, in this treatment. The added cell tends to have more attributes show up in the offspring, although the difference is slight.'

Sirius frowns. 'Does it really make a difference?'

The medi-witch leans forward conspiritorially. 'Well . . . having your his cell as the base cell might lead to a decreased likelihood of lycanthropy being passed along to the child.'

'So there's a chance our child could --' he glances quickly at Remus, 'Our child could have Remus's little problem?'

'Well --'

'I told you this was a bad idea.' 

Both Sirius and the medi-witch turn to Remus, who's been silent most of this time. He hasn't taken his eyes off the floor. 

'What do you mean?' demands Sirius. 'We talked this through, over and over --'

'I tried to tell you, and you didn't listen. Instead, you went ahead and made it about yourself. And then you went crying to James and Lily, and told them things about me that aren't true, and then you're keeping secrets from me and lying about it!'

'Remus!' says Sirius, shocked. 'I told you, I'm sorry! And anything that's been kept from you, I've kept it from you to keep you safe!'

Remus stands up, eyes twitching in fury. 'Keeping me safe doesn't mean keeping me in the dark when everyone else knows exactly what's going on! I _do_ love you, you know! You _can_ trust me!' he says, almost sarcastically. He nearly slips up and talks about the Order, but some part of his mind is still aware of the medi-witch standing there, gaping at them.

'I know I can trust you, and I love you as well!' shouts Sirius. 'That's exactly why I want to do this with you!'

'You haven't spoken to me properly _once_ in all the time we've been here, and the women outside realised something was wrong before you did! It's _wrong_ , Sirius! I've been telling you from the start -- and you haven't been listening. I could never do this to a child.'

'There's nothing wrong with wanting to have a child with you!' says Sirius furiously. 'And we'll love it no matter how it turns out.'

'Can you imagine it? Test tube baby? Child of a werewolf?' Remus scoffs in disgust, and shakes his head. He storms out without a look back.

***  
  


Twenty minutes later, Remus has been given plenty of time to consider what he's said, and how he feels about things. He leans against the grubby wall in an alleyway near the hospital, a lighted cigarette between his fingers.

He takes another drag, and throws his head back, feeling the smoke travel through his lungs, and back out, as he exhales. It's a bad habit of his, and he can't help it when he's stressed. But it makes him feel better.

Sure enough, he soon hears the heavy clunking of thick boots following him into the alleyway. He stubbornly refuses to turn and acknowledge his discoverer.

The clunking of the boots stops when it's within a couple feet of him. 'Finished throwing your hissy fit?' asks Sirius dryly.

Remus ignores his question. 'What I said about the child still stands, Sirius. I am a werewolf, and there is the ever present likelihood that any child of mine has the chance of being afflicted with my condition.'

'Furry little problem,' says Sirius mulishly.

'Fine. Whatever. My "furry little problem", if that's what you wish to call it,' Remus says tiredly. 'But the fact is, that we're knowingly siring another werewolf, and any consequences of that are on our own heads.'

'I'd love any child of ours, Remus, no matter how it "turns out".'

'It's not a question of _love,_ ' says Remus acidly.

Sirius sighs, and leans on the wall next to Remus. 'It is, as it turns out. I wasn't loved much as a child, you know that. You saw evidence of that yourself.'

'Where is this going?'

Sirius rolls his eyes. 'Let me finish. So I wasn't loved much. I was a kid, and I was lonely, and I was fucked up, and then I met you. And then I dragged you into my mess, and maybe I fucked you up a little, too, but you showed me that I could be loved, and that I deserved love. No matter what I was. Remus, I want to love this child like I was never loved, and I know you want that too. And we will love it so much, more than any child has ever been loved before.'

'For once, this isn't about you, it's about me. Can't you grasp the concept?'

'You'd make a great father.'

Remus suddenly turns around, and Sirius is horrified to see there are tears in his eyes. 'You can't know that!' he shouts. 'What if I pass on my condition, and the child is a monster? I'd be no different to Greyback.' He slumps against the wall in misery.

'Don't you dare say that, Remus Lupin. Don't you ever.' There are tears in Sirius's eyes as well now.

'It's true, and you know it.'

'You are _not_ a monster, and no child of yours could ever be a monster,' says Sirius fiercely.

Remus makes a wild gesture of tormentation, and covers his face in his hands. His shoulders start to shake, and Sirius pulls him into his chest.

'You are _not_ a monster, Remus. You couldn't be if you tried. I don't care who's told you that -- if it was Dumbledore, Merlin, or the Oracle of Delphi herself -- you are not a monster.'

Remus lets out a wheezing gasp into Sirius's shoulder. He's soaked his shirt with tears, and this whole day has gone awfully. 'What do you reckon the medi-witch thinks of us?' he asks tearfully.

Sirius laughs. 'I'll bet we're the most interesting couple she's had in a while. Five minutes, we were yelling at each other in there for, and we didn't even remember her.'

'Poor thing.'

Sirius nods against Remus's head. 'Actually . . . I've been thinking I wanted to have more of you in the child. I don't want it to end up looking like me, and not -- not Regulus,' he says hesitantly. He casts his eyes to the floor. 'And I definitely don't want to pass any of my -- my Blackness on.'

Remus extracts himself from Sirius's arms, so that he can look him in the eye. He takes his hand. 'We're going to do this, Sirius. We're going to have a child, and it's going to be ours entirely, and we're going to love it more than any baby in existence, even Harry --'

Sirius chuckles.

'-- and this child will have all of us, our dark parts and our light parts, and we're going to love it even then. Because it's our child.'

Sirius swipes a hand roughly under his eyes. 'Back to the clinic?'

Remus nods. 'Back to the clinic.'

They leave the alleyway, hand in hand, and head back into St. Mungo's, ready to give it another try.


	10. Chapter 10

Nine months later, the two of them are in St. Mungo's again.

Only this time, Lily, and James, and Harry are with them. Harry's two now, and he's started to walk and talk, and he's almost as excited as Remus and Sirius are at the thought of meeting their child for the first time.

'Oww, oww, oww,' complains James, extracting Harry's fist from his hair. 'That hurts, Harry. When the baby comes along, you'll have to be much more gentle. Like we told you.'

'Baby, baby, baby!' gurgles Harry in joy. He reaches forward and seizes clumps of James's hair again in his joy. Remus feels like doing the same thing.

'Fists of a Seeker, this one,' proclaims James, eyes watering with either pain or pride.

Lily laughs. 'Here. Let me take him from you.' She reaches over and pulls Harry into her lap, keeping her long hair safely out of reach. 'It's a phase,' she tells Remus. 'Sirius especially is going to have to watch out.'

Remus beams.

James elbows Sirius. 'You sure you're ready for the father life?' he asks with the air of a seasoned veteran.

'I've had to do your job for the past two years,' retorts Sirius playfully. 'I'm sure I'll do just fine this time round.'

'Don't take any lessons from him,' warns Lily, not noticing Harry chewing on her hair.

'We won't be taking them from either of you,' jokes Remus. 'Your hair, Lily.'

She glances down. 'Oh, Harry!'

He giggles in delight.

'Mr Lupin! Mr Black!' the receptionist calls. 'You're to go through to room twelve, please. Down the corridor, and round the corner. First door on your left.'

Remus and Sirius stand up. Sirius's eyes glow, and Remus is sure his are too. He takes Sirius's hand. 'Shall we?' he asks, wondering if he's even ready to meet the next biggest change in his life.

Sirius nods. 'We shall.'

They move through the mainly empty waiting room, following the receptionist's instructions, and step forth into the room marked twelve. It's far more homely than the room they'd been in all those months ago.

'Just in here.' It's the same medi-witch they'd met with, nine fateful months earlier. She beckons them forward towards a cradle in the centre of the room, and Remus's breath catches in his throat. Sirius's grip on his hand is deathly-tight.

They both peer over the sides. There's a small bundle of sheets in there, a small creature swaddled in more blankets than Remus can count. His eyes drink in the exposed pink circle that is their child's face, and his hand flies up to his mouth as his eyes flood with tears.

Sirius is crying freely, tears leaking out of the corners of his eyes.

'You can pick her up if you'd like,' says the medi-witch, smiling.

'Her?' asks Remus.

'Our little girl,' Sirius says softly. He nods at Remus.

With trembling hands, Remus reaches forward, and lifts the child up, cradling her in his arms like he's cradled Harry so many times before.

'She's beautiful,' Sirius says.

'She's got your eyes.'

'She's got your curls,' Sirius tells him, pushing the blankets away from around the baby's head. He takes the baby from Remus, and kisses her forehead.

A loud howl from behind them makes them turn around in panic. James is standing there, crying his eyes out. 'She's so perfect!' wails James.

Lily emerges from behind him looking harrassed, Harry in her arms. 'I told you to give them a moment, James,' she chides, a cross look on her face.

'Look at her!' James tells her.

Lily passes Harry to him, and peers at the baby in Sirius's arms. 'She's got the best parents she could wish for,' she tells Remus and Sirius, her gaze softening.

'We're going to love you so much,' Sirius tells the baby. 'You'll never be sad or lonely or hurt in your life.'

'We told Harry the same thing,' says James mournfully.

'Baby!' exclaims Harry.

James lifts him up to where he can see her. 'Baby.'

'What are you going to call her?' asks Lily softly.

Remus meets Sirius's gaze, and he nods. Sirius deserves this. He's suffered so much loss, so much pain in his life.

Sirius looks up at James. 'I want to -- I want to name her after mum, if that's all right with you?'

James nods. 'Of course it is,' he says thickly.

'Euphemia Lupin,' Sirius says.

'Euphemia Lupin-Black,' Remus says after him. 'All of us, light and dark.'

Even if Sirius doesn't want his family's name on their daughter, they're still a part of him, and a part of her too.

Sirius nods. 'But obviously,' he says to Euphemia, his voice tender, 'you're going to be our little Cucumber. You were grown like one, weren't you?'

'Oh, Sirius,' says Remus, laughing.

'If only Peter were here to see the Cucumber,' James says. 'She'd have loved her Uncle Pete.'

Peter had died in an attack a several months back, and James had made Sirius the Secret-Keeper after him. Remus remembers how happy for them Peter had been, although something about him had been sad as well. Maybe he'd sensed his end coming.

'She would've,' agrees Remus.

'Mia! Mia!' shouts Harry in joy, and they all smile.

'Want to take the Cucumber home?' asks Sirius, holding baby Mia to his chest.

'Yeah.' He wraps his arm around Sirius and kisses him. 'I love you, you know that.'

'I know,' says Sirius, once Remus has moved back. 'And I love you, too. Both of you.'

The medi-witch smiles from her corner. She's seen a thousand babies come and go, but never with a family as large and loving as this one. They've forgotten her, but she doesn't care. That's what she is. Invisible. And that's the way she likes it.

The four of them link hands, James and Lily carrying their son, Remus and Sirius carrying their daughter. They walk out of St. Mungo's, on that sunny, late June afternoon, and the rest of the day stretches out ahead of them, filled with endless possibilities.


End file.
